


Scared and Scarred

by musicalgirl4474



Series: Merlin is Important to Camelot, and other entities [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur loves merlin, F/M, Gen, I'm so sorry, Merlin is like his brother, Merlin is loved by everyone, Self-Harm, why did I do this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2018-12-10 11:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 33,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11690442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalgirl4474/pseuds/musicalgirl4474
Summary: Merlin has been running himself to the ground, full of despair and fear. He finds ways to deal with it, but he knows they are only temporary measures. Will someone notice before he takes it too far? (I know I tagged this, but just to make sure, WARNING: There are some rather graphic(ish?) descriptions of self-harm. If that's not something you want to read, go ahead and skip this, I do not judge.) Also, I suck at summaries. I apologize for that as well.





	1. It Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kinda sucks, I'm sorry. I promise, the others are way better, I just can't get this one right. (Which sucks, 'cause it's the first.) If you have any feedback on how to write chapters like this without dialogue, HELP ME PLEASE!!!

MERLIN POV

It was just all so hard. Every day, all the time, he was reminded of his destiny. And almost every week it seemed, Arthur managed to get himself into some sort of trouble. Witches, some magical monster, or . . . other things. Things like Freya. Merlin knew he shouldn't still be dwelling on this, it had been over a year. But everything was just coming down around him. Though Uther was dead and Arthur had made the large step of making peasants into knights, his stance against magic did not seem to waver. Just yesterday, a man convicted of using sorcery had been executed. They didn't even know what he had used the magic for. At least it hadn't been the pyre. A beheading. But Merlin just couldn't take it anymore. Watching as Arthur had sentenced the terrified man, barely older than Merlin, to death.

Merlin was terrified. So scared, so very scared. And not just for his life. He was failing. Failing in his destiny. He had called to Kilghara, but the dragon had had little to say other than to be patient. As if he hadn't been patient for the last few years. He had tried to hide the depression slump he was getting into, and while it was getting easier to avoid Gaius, Arthur was nearly impossible. Merlin could avoid Gaius by leaving early (normally without breakfast) and coming back late (normally skipping lunch on the way). But Arthur . . . Merlin tried his best not to show that anything was wrong . . . but sometimes he could swear Arthur seemed concerned. Not that it would matter. Arthur wouldn't be concerned when he killed Merlin for having magic. But . . . would he? Yes, probably. Still, the large and irrational part of him that thought of Arthur as a friend was telling him that Arthur would at least hear him out. Not that Merlin was particularly interested in testing that theory. The fear stopped him every time.

He had found a few ways to deal with the fear and stress. Well, mostly two. One was working himself to exhaustion, so the nightmares wouldn't come. That he was and had been doing. The second hadn't been implemented quite yet. But . . . today seemed as good a day as any. It had been a bad day, what with the execution and all. And the tool needed was in his hand. Sharp and bright. The dagger Arthur had given him after the last time Morgana had attacked.

"Because you're useless with a sword, but too loyal to stay safe," Arthur had said, sounding almost annoyed, when Merlin had asked for the reason behind the gift. He kept it on the table next to the bed. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep it there now. He wouldn't let anyone see it.

He contemplated the blade as he pressed it into the pale skin on the inside of his wrist. He pressed harder and harder, until he felt the skin split. Blood welled up, dark and wet, and trickled down his wrist, and off his fingertips. He took a shuddering breath. Merlin knew that he had passed the place of no return. He made another cut. More blood welled, and Merlin could feel his thoughts turning fuzzy. In a moment of slight panic, he put the knife down. Then his thoughts cleared a bit again, and he understood what happened. The blood loss. He'd have to take it slowly, or risk passing out. Then he would certainly be discovered. Taking a strip of cloth off of the bandage roll he had smuggled into his room earlier, he tied it around the two cuts, which were still oozing blood. Hopefully, no-one would notice under his long-sleeved shirt.

Merlin leaned against the wall, legs splayed in front of him on the bed. His eyes were drawn to a color staining the creamy blanket. It took a little while for his slightly foggy eyes to discern that it was his own blood. Quickly, Merlin muttered a small spell under her breath to take it off, but his concentration was a little wandering. The stain faded so that it could have been nothing more than a dirt stain, and Merlin felt himself sag more into the wall. Before he went to sleep, Merlin stowed the knife, which had cleaned of blood much easier than the greedy sheets, under the mattress of the small bed. Then he fell into a restless, nightmarish sleep.

The heat was rising, Merlin could feel the fire, hungry, greedy fire, coming closer. He would not scream, he would not give him the satisfaction. Merlin's eyes were watering from the smoke, but through the tears, he could see the figures standing on the balcony. Wait. Figures? Arthur was standing there, with Gwen at his side. They were both looking down at him. Both wore expressions of disgust. Disgust for what he is, what he was, something he couldn't control. Merlin's beleaguered mind despaired at the fact that even Gwen, who had lost a father at Uther's hand, had been watching him burn and not shed a tear. His eyes found Arthur's, and he saw . . . nothing. There was nothing there.

Merlin bolted upright, breathing heavily. Everything spun around him, and he collapsed off the bed. Looking up, Merlin noticed that there was a faint light shining through his window. He might as well get started if he wanted to avoid Gaius and any questions about his pale appearance, if his shaking hands were anything to go by. Hands . . . quickly, Melin pulled back the sleeve of his tunic to glance at the bandages. They were covered in dried blood. Quickly, he unwound them, hoping the fabric wouldn't have adhered to the cuts. It hadn't, that was good. And even better, the magic in his system had already closed them, so all that remained was an angry red scar. Quickly stuffing the used bandages under the mattress (he'd probably burn them later), he left the room.


	2. The Knights Notice?

Something seemed off about Merlin. Lancelot had been noticing it for a while. At first he had thought it was just the rainy weather that had his friend acting so oddly, but now he wasn't so sure. The sky had been blue for at least two days now . . . and he was still not acting like the Merlin he knew. He watched as the young man talked with Gwaine. He seemed almost nervous, edging slowly around Gwaine, as though he was trying to make an escape.

Lancelot walked over to the two of them, and noticed that Merlin was plucking at the edge of his sleeves, something he hadn't really noticed Merlin ever doing before. "I really have to go guys," he said quietly. "I need to collect herbs for Gaius."

"I'll come with," Gwaine said easily.

Merlin's eyes widened in what could be seen as panic. "No," he said quickly. "No, I'll be fine, and Arthur said that he was going to schedule extra training sessions today so . . . ." And with that, Merlin turned, and, having edged around Gwaine so as to have a clear shot to the gates, ran off.

"Merlin!" The man disappeared through the gates without so much as looking back and Gwaine. He turned to Lancelot. "Please tell me I'm not the only one noticing this."

Wordlessly, he shook his head.

"This really needs to stop. And . . . I'm really hoping he was lying about the extra practices. I'm still sore from yesterday," Gwaine whined. "Honestly, what's with sorcerers constantly coming to Camelot? You'd think they'd have learned by now. That guy didn't actually do anything and we still found out about him! And . . . then had to chase him down."

"What do you think started it?" Lancelot asked quietly. Gwaine didn't need to ask what his brother-in-arms was asking about. He slumped in defeat.

"I have no idea. But I feel like it's longer than we know. I noticed it maybe a week ago? It seems pretty bad today. Normally he at least pretends to be fine. But . . . that wasn't normal at all."

"Do you think . . ." Lancelot trailed off, still looking at the gates of the citadel. "Do you suppose we should talk to Arthur about it?" Gwaine looked at him like he'd lost his head.

"Are you kidding!? If Queenie doesn't already know, I'm not tellin' him. If he doesn't tell me about extra training, I don't have to go. Plus, he refuses to admit that Merlin's anything more than a servant."

"What are we going to do? We can't just pretend not to notice."

"I'll talk with him when he comes back." Gwaine said this with so much confidence, that Lancelot had to consciously think about not rolling his eyes. As it was, he gestured around him.

"ARE YOU BRAIN-DEAD!?" he whisper-yelled. "Did you not notice what happened here!? I think we missed the chance a long time ago."

Gwaine took a step towards the gates, then turned around, marching back into the citadel. Lancelot ran to keep up. "I thought you were against talking to Arthur," he gasped when he caught up.

"I'm not going to Arthur."

"Oh. Gaius?"

Gwaine nodded, walking briskly towards the physician's chambers. The physician opened the door with an expression that fell a bit when he took in who it was.

"I didn't do it this time, whatever it was," Gwaine said, throwing his hands in the air.

"No, no, you're fine," the old man said, shuffling to his work bench, "I was hoping you were Merlin. I haven't seen him today, and he's been acting strange lately."

"Oh, good." Lancelot said quietly. "We were afraid we were the only ones who noticed. That's why we came."

"Wait," Gwaine said suddenly. "So you didn't send Merlin to get herbs?" Gaius raised his eyebrows at the young knight. That was all the answer they needed.

"Oh gods . . ." Lancelot said.

"So . . . what's he doing?" Gwaine was so pale, one could mistake him for a chainmail-wearing alabaster statue.

Gaius looked between the two young men in confusion. "He told you I sent him for herbs?"

"Yes?" Gwaine said, voice almost a whimper.

"Maybe we're just over-reacting." Lancelot said. "Maybe he's gone to the tavern. You know how Arthur doesn't like him to go there . . ." Lancelot could have kicked himself.

"I'm gonna go find him!" Gwaine called over his shoulder as he ran out of the room and down the hall.

Lancelot looked at Gaius hopelessly, an unspoken question in his worried eyes.

The physician nodded. "I will notify you when he returns."

Lancelot took off after Gwaine. He found him talking very quickly and with great excitement to a completely bemused-looking Elyan.

"We're going to look for Merlin in the tavern," Lancelot explained as he walked by.

"Why? Is Merlin missing?"

"Not . . . exactly," Lancelot said, as he watched Gwaine flex his hands into fists. "You seem to alternate between extreme worry, and not-so extreme worry," is added in aside to the anxious-looking man.

"No, just very worried. I'm just good at hiding it, hoping I'm blowing it way out of proportions," Gwaine said, turning to walk backward so as to look Lancelot in the eye.

"I'm taking it this is a little more serious than I've suspected." Elyan said, looking back and forth between the two other knights.

"You didn't notice!?" Gwaine asked, incredulously.

"Sort of," the knight admitted. "I mean, he hasn't been himself lately, but I assumed it was just the weather. It had a lot of people feeling down."

"I thought the same," Lancelot admitted. "But a few minutes ago . . . ." He looked hopelessly at Gwaine.

"A few minutes ago there was a bit of a scare." Gwaine said. "The conversation actually got better when Merlin saw you across the courtyard, Lance."

"What happened before I got there!?" What could be worse than what he had witnessed?

"I think . . . I really hope Merlin's at the tavern and not in the forest."


	3. The Forest

Merlin wasn't in the tavern, he wasn't even in the town. He knew that he'd be found out when he didn't bring back many, if any, herbs when he returned to the citadel, but he needed to get out and think over what had happened. He sat on the bank of the lake, wishing so much that Freya could still talk to him. She'd probably know what to say.

"I can't do it anymore." Merlin said dejectedly. "Screw destiny, I just can't do it. I can't keep lying to Arthur. I can't keep lying to the knights. I can't keep doing nothing while other, innocent, magic-users are hunted down like animals. I just . . . can't. I wish you were here, Freya." He picked up a stick, scratching absently in the dirt. His wrist was a little sore, but he ignored it. Merlin could, of course, have gone to talk to Kilghara, but that would most likely not end well.

The lake and its clearing were tranquil. The morning sunlight filtering through the green leaves, dappling the grass with golden spots. The birds were chirping quietly in the underbrush and treetops, not having a care in the world. Merlin could almost hear the flowers growing, their colors danced across the clearing as the breeze wound through them.

A strong wind blew through the trees, causing Merlin to jump and look around suddenly. He calmed down quickly, but continued to look over his shoulder as he sat at the waterside. Merlin sat there, just looking out over the water, until the sun was high overhead. With a whispered good bye and a toss of the stick into the water, Merlin walked away.

Merlin let his eyes wonder across the ground around him as he walked, looking for any herbs on the way. He saw a patch of nettles, and almost exclaimed aloud, because Gaius had been complaining earlier about a shortage of nettle leaves and roots.

Quickly, Merlin went over to the tall, green, spiky-leaved plants and set to digging them up. The ground was still soft from all the rain they had gotten recently, and the roots were easy to clean. There was no water anywhere, so Merlin simply scraped the mud off with his hands, getting some nice stings along the way. The pain didn't bother him really, it was almost nice. It gave him something other than the darkness to dwell on, though it wasn't as bad in the forest as it was when he was around people. He didn't constantly see people he was lying to while he was here.

Merlin filled the basket with the nettles, and continued through the forest. He was pretty sure Arthur would be livid once he get back, because there was no way it would take almost half the day to pick a bunch of nettles. Oh well. The prat could be as livid as he liked, Merlin needed some time to himself.

He was still a half-mile from the edge of the forest when he heard his name. "Merlin!" Merlin stopped, sighed, and turned to face Gwaine. "You've been gone for hours! Where were . . . are those nettle stings?" I answer, Merlin hefted the basket. "Oh come on, don't look at me like that!" Gwaine turned to call over his shoulder. "I found 'im guys!" There was a sound in the distance, and Gwaine turned back to Merlin, frowning. "You sure you're alright?"

Merlin mentally shook himself, remembering suddenly that he couldn't let the knights know anything going on in his head right now. Although he was pretty sure they suspected a lot. "I'm fine," he said, plastering a smile on his face. "Just a little tired. Why?"

Gwaine was still studying him with eyes far more intense than he was used to, and Merlin started wondering if Gwaine somehow did know what he had done the night before. "You haven't been yourself lately," Gwaine said. "Something's wrong, something's bothering you. Why won't you tell us what it is?"

"Nothing's wrong, Gwaine," Merlin said, and he knew that his smile was very see-through. Gwaine simply 'Hmm'ed and looked Merlin up and down as Lancelot and Elyan came jogging towards them.

"Merlin!" Lancelot called. "We've been looking for you all day!"

"You must have had very little faith in my message that Arthur was planning extra training today, which, by the way, I was telling the truth about." Merlin raised his eyebrows at Elyan's expression. "Which, I would guess, Gwaine forgot to mention to you?" He was given his answer when Elyan glared at the back of Gwaine's head.

"Oh don't worry," Gwaine said, waving an airy hand. "I can deal with Queeny when we get back."

"Good luck," Merlin muttered under his breath. "Don't worry 'bout us," Lancelot said. "Are you-?"

"As I have already told Gwaine, I am fine!" Merlin said, in a voice that he hoped brooked no argument. Lancelot's brows drew together, and he could almost feel Elyan's concerned glance on him. Merlin realized that he may have been a little too assertive, but he was tired and Arthur . . . well, he'd already be angry at his knights. And he might not take all his anger out on them. Not that he wanted them to. They had only missed training because he had worried them enough to cause them to come after him. Another thing he'd feel guilty for later. Although that guilt certainly paled next to the lies he had told and deaths he could possibly have prevented, and didn't.

"Shall we go back? Better sooner than later," Elyan said eventually, after a semi-awkward silence had fallen. So, they began to walk back through the now quiet forest. The sun was starting to creep lower in the sky, and their shadows stretched ahead of them as they reached the edge of the forest. Merlin noticed that Gwaine and Lancelot were sticking closer to him than normal. Even Elyan, who Merlin was pretty sure was very confused as to what was going on, was still sending concerned glances his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are life! And thanks so much to all of the people who have read this so far.


	4. What Does Arthur Know?

MERLIN POV

Not everything was horrible, Merlin supposed. Not everything had changed. Arthur, for instance, was still a prat, and still always buzzing after training, if all had gone well. In this case though, three of his finest knights had skipped out on his impromptu session.

"I thought I told you to tell everyone, Merlin," he said, his tone irritated.

"I did," Merlin responded, trying his best to keep his tone light, as he always did when Arthur was angry for some reason or another. "They just decided that their time was better spent following me into the forest while I was collecting herbs for Gaius."

As always, Arthur seemed to ignore him. He thrust his arm in front of Merlin, who began to unstrap the armor quietly. When the armor was all sitting on the table, Arthur turned to face him again. "You left before lunch to go gather herbs. Did it really take you this long to gather a bunch of nettles?"

"Who told you I was gathering nettles?"

"Elyan. He said he was worried about you." Ah, Arthur. Always so subtle. "I think it was his way of apologizing. Even so . . . is everything alright, Merlin?"

Merlin could feel his brow furrowing in confusion, and his smile faltered on his face. "Why would he be worried?"

"Don't avoid the question, Merlin," Arthur said, staring at him searchingly with those blue eyes that seemed to look right through him.

Merlin bit his bottom lip, considering. But it really wasn't worth telling Arthur. Not that he could really ever consider it anyways. "I'm fine," he said, doing his best to insert enough confusion into his tone for his expression to be passed over.

"Hm. Well, if you're sure, you can go get me dinner."

Mutely, Merlin nodded and left, relief among the most potent emotions flashing through his mind. He wasn't exactly sure why, but talking with Arthur had made him nervous. As though Arthur might find out about his secret. Well, secrets, and Merlin wasn't sure which one he wanted Arthur to find out about least. The magic, or the scars that had still not quite been erased from last night.

ARTHUR POV

Arthur watched as Merlin left, closing the door quietly behind him. He didn't really believe Merlin when he said he was fine. He wasn't sure why. Merlin had seemed to have no idea why Elyan had been worried about him. Which was what had Arthur himself worried. Merlin was a terrible lire. So then why did Arthur feel like this was a lie?

With a sigh, Arthur turned to the fire in its hearth. But why was he worried? Merlin was his manservant. A king didn't worry about the servants. And Merlin had Gaius looking after him. A great physician if ever there was one. Gaius would have known if there was something wrong with Merlin . . . right?

There was a light knock on his door, and he called for the person to enter. It was Gwen. Beautiful, lovely Gwen. "Are you alright?" she asked, looking up at his face. Absently, he nodded. "Arthur," she said, resting a slender hand on his shoulder. "Something's troubling you."

"Something," he agreed. "Something about Merlin. Has he seemed . . . odd to you lately?"

" . . . I'm not sure. I guess . . . he hasn't seemed quite himself," she said after a pause. "Why?"

"When Elyan, Gwaine and Lancelot finally showed up for training earlier, Elyan said he was worried about Merlin. Apparently he'd been 'out picking herbs' for the better part of the day. Since before lunch, and they returned scarcely a half-hour ago."

He turned to face Gwen. "I don't know why I'm so worried. But it's not just today. Gwaine and Lancelot both say he's been acting 'off' for a long time."

"It's normal to be worried when friends- no, don't argue with me Arthur. Whether you admit it or not, it's true –are acting oddly. But it can take a while to find some herbs in the forest."

"But he came back with a basketful of nettles, and those are springing up all over the place like weeds," Arthur protested, ignoring the friend comment.

Gwen sighed, sitting quietly at the table in Arthur's room. "To answer your question, yes, I have been noticing that something wasn't quite normal about him, but don't worry yourself too much about it. If he was really bothered, he would have told someone, and Gaius is looking out for him."

Arthur nodded, sitting next to her, running his hands through is tangled hair. Gwen gently kissed his cheek. "Stop worrying," she murmured, running one smooth thumb against his brow. "You don't need worry-lines yet."

Merlin chose that moment to enter the door, supper for two people on a tray. "I passed Gwen not soon after leaving," he answered Arthur's unspoken question. His voice was tired, and Arthur noticed that Merlin had bags under her eyes.

"Is there anything else you'll need tonight, my lord?" Merlin asked.

"Um . . ." Arthur was struck slightly dumb by the title. Merlin never paid attention to propriety. "Just . . . polish my armor, then you're free to . . . do whatever."

Merlin raised his eyebrows a little, but simply nodded, picked the armor off the other end of the table, and left.

Arthur noticed Gwen frowning in the direction of the door. "You're right, I think he's gotten worse."

"He actually called me 'my lord'," Arthur muttered. Gwen laughed as she picked up an apple.

"Yes," she said with a joking tone. "That's a sure sign he's not alright." Arthur sighed as he took a gulp of wine.

"I don't know what's got me most worried. Him, or the fact that I AM worried about him."

"Be worried about him, and once he's better, then you can worry about your precious propriety. You are courting me, remember." Arthur laughed quietly.

"How could I ever forget?"


	5. The Beginning of the End

Merlin's POV

The knife caught the last vestiges of sunlight trickling through his window, turning the blade a dull red. Or maybe it was irreparably stained with his blood. He wasn't sure if he really needed to cut tonight. Nothing terrible had happened, the knights and Arthur hadn't found out anything, despite how nosy they were being. If he wasn't careful, they very well could find out. And something in him said that was a bad thing.

He felt something prick his forearm, and looked down. He had let the blade get a little too close to his skin. He wanted it so badly. The relief and blankness brought on by, he knew, loss of blood. But it was a blessed relief . . . and Merlin's mind was working too fast. He stopped himself, staying his hand as the blade pressed against the slightly red, scarred skin. He bit his lip.

This had been what he was afraid of. The way he couldn't control himself. He wanted it so badly . . . but Merlin simply put the knife away. He didn't want it to get out of hand. A bead of blood squeezed out of the small cut on his arm, and he watched it trail slowly down his arm, hanging on his finger, trembling for a minute before falling to the floor.

His life was like that right now, hanging on a fingertip, gravity threatening to drag him down, down, down. Maybe it already had. He just hadn't hit the bottom yet.

Merlin sighed as he leaned back. He needed sleep. Maybe he could be on time with Arthur's breakfast tomorrow. If he was proficient at his job, he wouldn't need to be around Arthur too much, besides, maybe then he could also avoid any too-close scrutiny from the knights if we wasn't around them all the time. He closed his eyes, and fell instantly into a dream.

Again the flames licked at his bare feet. Merlin cringed, holding back the scream even as it built in the back of his throat. This is a dream, he told himself firmly. A nightmare. Nothing more. He didn't have foresight like Morgana did. Even so, he felt the pain. This time, in the dream, he couldn't see anyone, which could be seen as an improvement. No one was looking at him with malice, no one was breaking his already torn heart. He gave it too easily, he knew this. Gave his trust and his heart to people who didn't care, to whom he lied on a daily basis to keep himself alive. But he felt so alone. Even in death, he would have no comfort.

The fire licked at his legs, and Merlin finally screamed as he felt his flesh bubble and burn. It was a terrible feeling. His flesh simultaneously stretching and tightening. The smoke rolled into his lungs, and he was choking, gasping, trying desperately to find some clear air to enter his lungs. He coughed, and wretched, and breathed in fire. It was harder now to be so sure it was just a dream. In fact, that thought was barely there in Merlin's mind.

He woke in a sweat, sitting upright in bed and gulping in air. The sun just breaking through the window. There was no need to rub the sleep from his eyes, Merlin was wide awake from his nightmare. Head pounding, Merlin rose from his bed and got dressed, making sure the long sleeves obscured the scars from view. Then he went to get Arthur his breakfast.

Most of the rest of the day passed in a blur. He cleaned Arthur's chambers, feeling the man's gaze follow him around the room. He polished Arthur's armor after the knights' early morning practice, but Arthur didn't seem to have much for him to do. In fact, the young king seemed distracted by something. "Is . . . something wrong?" Merlin asked haltingly after he brought Arthur his mid-day meal.

"There are some strange reports coming from some patrols sent towards our border with Cenred's land," he said, brows drawn together. "But not actions from that country, it's within our borders. The men think a sorcerer is doing weird things with the animals. They've apparently been disappearing. All the game is gone. And that's not all. Farmers claim that their animals have been behaving oddly. The men report that the villagers have seen a figure all in black upon a black horse making off from where they house the young calves." Arthur rubbed his temples with his fingers. "I sent Elyan and Leon with a few men to find this sorcerer and bring him here for justice."

"Maybe it's just an animal thief," Merlin suggested quietly. "Why must he be a sorcerer at all?"

"The villagers claim to have seen him glow. And besides, how could any one man without the aid of such forbidden powers continue to come back and not get caught? The villagers also say they have not lost any livestock yet. We have no idea what this sorcerer could possibly want with the animals."

"Hmm," Merlin murmured as he poured water into the cup. It sounded odd, even to him. Unless the sorcerer (or sorceress) wanted to make the animals sick, or heal them, there was little reason not to take them. This alone made Merlin a little nervous. The animals were acting oddly. That would give some proof to his theory of making the animals sick, but for some reason, he didn't think so. Some gut feeling was telling him that that wasn't it. But what else could it be? Unless the animals were acting oddly because they were already sick, and were being healed. But that made no sense either. Merlin thought back to a few weeks ago, the first night he'd cut. He'd done it because a man had been burned at the pyre for using sorcery. For no other reason, for he'd done no real wrong.

Arthur excused him, and Merlin walked quietly through the halls, heading towards Gaius' rooms, hoping the man would have something for him to do. Unbidden, a song came to his mind, one his mother had sung to him when he'd asked her why no one spoke out against Uther and his anti-magic executions.

 

They believe that justice is the same thing as the law

So they conform their opinions to whatever they've been taught.

I'll admit that they just shrug, and they don't dwell on anyone

When they hear, of some unfortunate hound that got thrown in with the wolves

 

'cause deep down they know that the innocent always go free

That there's someone who's watching the watchers, it doesn't have to be them

It's easy to trust that things are going as they should

As long as it's no one they know, getting burned along with the wood

 

It's no surprise he was arrested

He should have held his peace

That's what you get from speaking out in troubled times like these

 

We said we've gone astray,

From where we were when this began

They're sure they'll all be fine

If they just go with the plan

 

'cause deep down they know that the innocent always go free

That there's someone who's watching the watchers, it doesn't have to be me

It's easy to trust that things are going as they should

As long as it's no one they know, getting burned along with the wood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is 'Golgotha' by Heather Dale, I do not own it.


	6. Yara Mair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I had move-in for college, and all that. :P

As it turned out, the sorcerer was a young girl, she couldn't be much older than ten winters. When she was brought in front of the king, she did not wish him harm, in fact, the girl bowed, long blond hair falling over her shoulders.

"My king," she said quietly.

"What is your name, girl?" Arthur asked, and Merlin could tell he was a little put off by her young age and the fact that she had bowed to him.

"Yara Mair, Sire," she answered.

"You are charged with using sorcery, Yara. How do you respond to this accusation?" Most people would deny the charges, most people would say that it must be a mistake. They had no magic. But Yara's reply was different.

"For what was I using said magic, Sire?"

"For making game animals disappear, and sickening the people's animals."

"What were the symptoms of said animals?"

Merlin could almost have laughed. It now sounded like this girl was questioning Arthur, rather than the other way around, and his magic sensed only slight amusement coming from the girl, no malicious purpose to be found.

Arthur looked to Leon, who came forward. "The animals were restless, uneasy, Sire, and those who weren't were lethargic." Merlin quietly wondered whether Arthur knew what lethargic meant.

"That could easily have been due to the rain, or perhaps a little disease called 'they-were-stuck-in-a-barn-all-winter'. Merlin snorted, but quickly turned it into a cough. Arthur wasn't amused.

"The villagers stated that they saw you entering the place where they keep the young calves. And that doesn't account for the missing game. It was a mild winter by all accounts. There should be plenty of such animals in that forest."

"For you to hunt and kill for sport. There are people who'd need the meat more than you. Perhaps your thief is all around you, Sire," Arthur's eyebrows rose. "If you'll excuse my bluntness, this is but the opinion of a simple girl," Yara said, bowing once more. The girl's blue eyes held only sincerity, the black cloak she wore enveloped her small body as she stood strait once more.

"Are you, or are you not a sorcerer?" growled an older knight. One of the knights that had served under Uther for a long time.

"No," the girl said strongly. I am not a sorcerer."

"You lie!" Yelled the same knight. I saw her, Sire! When we caught her, she lit a fire with no flint or other tool!"

"You have no proof that I lie," the girl said, pointedly, staring at the older man with a challenge in her eyes.

"And no proof that you tell the truth," Arthur pointed out quietly. Merlin knew that both were right. But the girl was safe with her little lie on technicalities. Of course, if she were to explain this, she would be executed for using magic. She could be executed for the way she spoke to Arthur. Whoever this girl was, she was playing a dangerous game.

"Where are you parents?" Arthur asked quietly.

"Dead," the girl said. "Or as good as. They were drafted into Cenred's army. Well, my father was. My mother died giving birth to me."

"Who takes care of you?"

"Me. I take care of myself. Sometimes women will give me a piece of bread or something . . . or let me sleep next to their fire, but I travel a lot."

"And yet these villagers claim you have been using your sorcery on their animals for over a week."

"Magic," the girl snapped. "That's why I'm not a sorceress. I'm an enchantress. I . . . my magic doesn't expand into battle ability. Just healing. I'm a healer."

"Ha!" The knight yelled, and Merlin could feel his jaw drop slightly. "She admitted it!" The knight said.

Even Arthur seemed surprised. It took a couple minutes for him to say "take her to the dungeons."

"I thought you might be different than the man who killed my five-year-old brother for accidently turning a chicken into a cat!" Yara yelled as the guards grabbed her. "Not everyone has a choice about magic! Some have it in their blood! My grandfather was one of the last Dragon lords! He had only one daughter before he was killed; and his gift with him! Don't be a murderer Arthur Pendragon! It will break your world around you." The last part was said quietly into the silence of the hall following the girl calling the king by his name. She glanced towards Merlin as she was dragged away, and he could read in her eyes that she needed to speak with him. With Emrys.


	7. Both Scared and Scarred

That night, after Gaius had gone to bed, Merlin threw off his covers. The knife was newly hidden under the mattress, clean cloth around his wrists. The 'trial' had made his hand slip more than once earlier that night. He had made sure not to pass out, though he really, really wanted to just not think for a while. He needed to talk to Yara Mair.

The torches cast shivering shadows against stone walls as Merlin slipped down to the dungeons. The guards were almost asleep, and Merlin managed to slip past them without using any magic. The young girl was held in one of the magic-suppressing cells, a place that filled Merlin with a feeling like ice.

Whispering a quiet greeting, Merlin watched as the girl looked up from where her head was tucked against her knees.

"Emrys," the girl breathed, and she crawled towards him on her hands and knees. She got to within a foot of the barred door, before the shackles around her small wrists stopped her. Merlin reached a pale hand through the door, and grasped the small, warm hand in his.

"I will get you out of this," he promised, and she nodded.

"I am not brave enough to die to set in motion the events that will show Arthur he is wrong," she said quietly. "I'm scared." Merlin rubbed her thumb on the girl's wrist, trying to calm her as tears dripped onto her cheeks. And felt raised ridges through the fabric. He sent the girl a questioning gaze. "And scarred," she admitted quietly, shoving her sleeves up to her elbows. The scars there were fading, they must be a few months old, at least. Merlin could feel the girl's eyes on him. "I fell, when my brother was killed. The one mercy granted to him was that it was fast," she said quietly. "No such mercy has been given to either of us."

Merlin caught Yara's glance to his sleeves, where he had drawn them back to the outside the door. With hesitation, Merlin gripped the hem of his sleeves. He pulled them back, exposing the cleanly bandaged arms, through which a few spots of red could be seen. He moved his hands back into the cell, allowing her to run her hands over the bandages. She let her hands fall back to her lap.

"I'm not brave enough to die," she said again, "but maybe I can help you, Emrys."

"My name's Merlin," Merlin said quietly.

"You stood next to Arthur during the 'trial'," she said, sketching quotation marks around the word.

"I'm his manservant," Merlin said, quietly.

"Well, at least he seems to care not for propriety where you're concerned," she said, a touch of wry humor in her voice.

"You sure?" Merlin looked quietly at the lock to the cell, trying to feel it with his magic.

"He's comfortable around you. I wasn't lying about not being a sorceress you know. There's a difference between and sorceress and an enchantress. I'm more of a healer, a singer, but I can also see more of the subtleties that show what someone thinks of another person."

"That's great," Merlin said absently as he sent his magic into the metal entrapment. Some of the spell that muffled his magic, seeming almost to freeze it within him, snuck outside the cell, making it harder than normal to call on the magic inside him.

"You said your grandfather was a dragon lord," he said quietly, grunting quietly as the magic was snuffed out.

"One of the last," she agreed, and Merlin once again felt the fire of her gaze upon him.

"There was one left, until about a year ago. Then the power changed hands Emrys. Merlin," she amended herself.

"How do you know all of this?" He asked, grabbing for the power again.

"You don't know how to shield your mind very well. Some of you memories are slightly overwhelming," she answered. "That's another thing about enchantresses. They can see memories, sometimes thoughts if we know how to control it. I don't really. I'm only learning, mostly teaching myself."

"What were you doing in the town?" Merlin asked as he felt the magic work against the lock.

"The calves had an illness. Nothing too bad, at least, I don't think it was. But I was hoping to practice my healing ability. Obviously, I have to practice my stealth skills a bit more." She offered him a small grin.

The lock clicked, and Merlin's eyes faded back to their natural blue color. "Now for the cuffs," Merlin said quietly. The girl held her hands out to him. Her wrists were chaffed red from the metal.

Yara was silent as Merlin worked. His magic stayed insistently out of reach. It was there, he could feel it, but when his hands went numb, Merlin had to admit some semblance of defeat.

"You should leave," Yara said, eyes wide. "Your magic is to you as air is for the rest of us. This place could kill you."

"Just for a minute," Merlin said. "A deep breath before I plunge into the waters if you like." He backed out of the cell and turned, going back to where the two men sat guard. One of them should have what he was looking for. The ring of keys sat on the table both men were hunched over as they wagered on the outcome of a game of dice. Idiots. Merlin may not be the sharpest knife in the metaphorical drawer, but he knew better than to waste any of his money on betting.

With a quick twitch of his hand, his eyes changed to gold and the dice skittered off to the far corner. As the men's backs were to him, he grabbed the keys with his magic, and a few whispered words brought them to his hands. Like a shadow, Merlin, known to those of magic as Emrys, disappeared back down into the cold, shadowy depths of the dungeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are life! ;) Thanks to everyone who's read this far into the story. I know the updating is super sporadic and the chapters are short, my apologies :P.


	8. After an Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be two updates today, since it has been so long . . . sorry! I've got finals going on and whatnot, been forgetting to update :(

Arthur POV

How? That was a question running, with some frustration, through the King's head. How, in the name of his ancestors, did the girl manage to escape? The cell was one of the ones left from the Great Purge. The bars were steel-coated silver and gold, the area around it strewn with plants that were supposed to repress magic, to leech it from the air.

She was just a child. How had she escaped from a cell that had held many more sorcerers, probably deeper than she in those dark arts? The answer seemed pretty simple. She had insider help. But no one had gone into the dungeons last night. No, the guards didn't see anyone enter the dungeons, Arthur corrected himself.

Arthur wasn't sure what he would have done to the girl. Someone caught messing with anyone else's animals without magic would normally have to work off his debt. But because the girl was a sorcerer . . . he would have been expected to put her to death. It wasn't like he wanted to. He had terrible memories of when he was a child, watching people his age and younger killed by the flames. It gave him nightmares, sometimes it still did. But laws were laws, and magic evil. He'd been too young to understand that then.

"Arthur?"

Arthur looked up from where he'd had his head hung over his desk to see Merlin standing at the door holding a basket of clean clothes, and with concern written on his face.

"What is it Merlin?" he asked, and winced at the tired sound of his voice.

"You alright?"

Arthur felt an eyebrow rise. "I'm fine, Merlin. Why do you ask?"

"You . . . you're being very quiet."

"Just because I don't love the sound of my own voice doesn't mean there's something wrong," Arthur responded absently. "Merlin?"

"Yes Sire?"

"That girl. Yara Mair," Arthur noticed how Merlin flinched slightly as Arthur said the name. Poor boy must be terrified of the sorcerer, in fact, Merlin looked almost terrified whenever magic was so much as mentioned. "She escaped last night. I want you to gather the knights together. We're riding out in an hour to find her."

Merlin bowed low, which was unusual. "Yes Sire," he said, and exited the room.

LANCELOT POV

The knock on his door startled him, and Lancelot called for the person to enter. He carefully set his sword, which he'd been sharpening, on the table beside him as Merlin entered.

"Arthur wants you and the others with us to go looking for the girl. Apparently she escaped last night." Merlin closed the door behind him and slid down the strong wood. Lancelot got up and went over to his friend.

"I don't suppose she got out on her own, did she?" Wordlessly, Merlin shook his head, and Lancelot sighed. "My friend, you have a breath-taking lack of self-preservation," he said wonderingly.

Merlin smiled up at him, and Lancelot was abruptly reminded how his friend had worried Gwaine and him earlier. The boy's face was white and drawn. Exhaustion battled with a deep sadness, and the terror that only Lancelot and Gaius could know was there. The terror of being caught. Of having Arthur, his friend and king, sentence him to death by the pyre. Lancelot was one of the few people that Merlin had confided his fear in. Perhaps the only person.

"Hey man, you alright?"

"I'll be fine," Merlin said as he took the knight's hand. Lancelot hoisted the servant onto his feet, painfully aware that the boy probably shouldn't be that light.

"You're sure?" He didn't want to pry, but Lancelot had a feeling Merlin needed to talk to somebody.

"I couldn't take the chance that Arthur would kill Yara," Merlin said quietly. "Quite apart from the fact that she's not evil and I like her, Arthur killing a child would . . . I could never forgive him. I can't take that chance. I need to trust Arthur, I know that. But what he was going to do . . . I just, I . . . ." Tears were falling down Merlin's cheeks now, and Lancelot brought his friend into a hug. He pressed the boy's face into his shoulder as he began to sob.

Lancelot understood what Merlin was saying. With Yara gone, Merlin could at least pretend that Arthur wouldn't kill her. If she hadn't escaped, and Arthur had killed her . . . Merlin wasn't sure if he would have been able to continue fighting for the king.

"You know," Lancelot said quietly once the sobs into his shoulder had quieted. "I liked that girl. She had some pluck, she must have been very brave to speak to Arthur the way she did."

"She didn't have any family left to be worried about. Just her own life," Merlin's reply came, muffled by the knight's tunic. The servant pulled back, wiping at his eyes with the long sleeves of his rough shirt. "You'd best get ready to ride out. Arthur wanted to leave in an hour half an hour ago."

Lancelot sheathed his sword, but before he left, he turned back to Merlin. "You good now?"

"Much better," came the reply.

STILL LANCELOT POV (IN THE FOREST)

None of the other Knights of the Round Table seemed to understand why Arthur wanted to spend the day hunting a young girl. To be honest, even Lancelot wasn't quite sure. The king had seemed to be letting go of his hatred of magic, dulling his feelings to a simple unease. But now . . . this. Why the sudden change of heart? Of course, he didn't know what the king had been planning to do with the girl.

"Is Queeny gonna have us out 'ere all night too?" Gwaine complained when Arthur informed them that they should also keep an eye out for game.

"However long it takes to find her, Gwaine," Arthur said, without turning around.

"No offense, Sire, but this is an enchantress we are dealing with," Percival said quietly. "She'll be long gone by now."

"Not necessarily," Arthur said haughtily. "She claimed that enchantresses couldn't do the really powerful magic, which would include teleportation. And she's on foot. At least, no horses were missing from the stables this morning."

Lancelot wondered how Arthur knew teleportation would be beyond the abilities of an enchantress, but dismissed it. After all, it kind of did make sense. One could logically assume that moving through space like that would take a tremendous amount of energy.

The sun was dipping under the horizon when Leon found a trail. "Someone light, small, probably our sorcerer," he said quietly, examining the small footprint in the damp soil next to the small pond.

"We'll pitch camp here," Arthur said, "Pick up the trail in the light. She can't get far in the night."


	9. Only Yara Mair Noticed

Merlin POV

He was worried. There was no other word for it. When he had gotten Yara out of that magic-draining cell, he'd been convinced that a horse was a good idea. She had talked him down. The horses were guarded at night, to discourage and thieves from the lower town. She didn't want to get him in trouble.

Now, as Arthur readied the knights for their second day of search for the girl, Merlin was wishing he had insisted. There was no way for Yara Mair to outrun the knights of Camelot. Not on her own. They would catch her today.

"The girl will be fine," Lancelot murmured quietly as he passed Merlin with supplies under his arm.

"What will I do if Arthur does find her?" Merlin murmured back.

"Do what you feel is right," was Lancelot's reply.

Merlin mounted his mare and, with a click of his tongue, brought her beside Arthur's horse. The king looked sideways at him.

"You're being very quiet Merlin."

"Really?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've lost the fondness you seem to harbor for your own voice."

"Ha ha, very funny Sire," Merlin said, smirking. This felt normal, and for a second, Merlin was able to forget what they were doing in this gods forsaken forest. Then-

"Sire," Leon said suddenly. "I think she went off the path here." And, nodding, Arthur turned his horse into the trees. Reluctantly, Merlin followed. There was only the flicker of hope now that Yara could get out of this situation alive. And it was quickly going out.

Arthur POV

They rode for about an hour before Arthur caught sight of something ahead. A movement in the trees, the edge of a black cloak whipping out of sight. He pulled on the reins, bringing his horse to a stand-still; and sent his knights around. They would surround the girl and give her nowhere to run.

"Arthur . . ."

"Shush, Merlin," he said, annoyed. They were so close, he could feel it. He urged his horse forward, and heard Merlin's mare following behind him as he closed in on the figure. The girl was standing in the middle of a clearing, face to face already with Gwaine, Lancelot, and Percival. Leon and Elyan rode into the clearing as Arthur approached.

The sorceress turned, a drawn, hopeless expression on her face. "I suppose you've come to take me back," she said, voice full of defiance.

"That would be a reasonable assumption," Arthur agreed. The girl seemed surprisingly not-terrified (hopeless, yes, but not terrified), despite the fact that she was surrounded by Camelot's finest knights and her king.

"And I suppose that once you get me there, I face the death penalty anyway," the girl said. Arthur was stumped. There was something about this girl. He couldn't lie to her. He didn't want to kill her, but the laws stated that those with magic were to be killed. Magic was an evil thing, sorcerers had destroyed his family. So why should the girl come quietly.

"I am, as yet, unsure of your sentence," he said finally. "Magic is a severe offense against the crown and people of Camelot. I'm assuming you are aware of this." The girl nodded. Arthur heard a noise behind him, and turned to see Merlin dismounting his horse. Arthur raised an eyebrow at his manservant, who took his water skin and disappeared into the woods most probably to find a river.

Arthur turned back to the girl, to find that she was looking after Merlin with an odd expression on her face, almost like worry. "Aren't you going to go after him?" Even her voice was laced with worry, but that was absurd. Why would a sorcerer care about his manservant? His confusion must have shown on his face, for she spoke then. "Never mind then," the girl said, rubbing her lower arms. "Never mind."

Arthur felt his brow furrow, but quickly brought his mind back on-topic before he started worrying about Merlin again. That was not why they were here. "We will bring you back to Camelot," he said with as much authority as he could muster.

"Will you?" she asked. "I kind of like my head where it is, and I don't really like fire in the Summer. Seems kind of pointless, doesn't it?"

"You poke fun at the breaking of the law against magic?" Leon asked, sounding not so much as dangerous as incredulous.

"No," the girl said, turning towards the knight. "I poke fun at your over-blown reaction."

"Over-blown!?" Arthur asked, this time even he could hear the anger infused in the words. Everything this girl said confused and confounded him, and the king of Camelot was getting a little sick of it. Why could nothing ever be simple?

"Let's be honest. You have no proof that I did anything bad with the magic. I barely even got to practice my healing skills. As I said before, malignant magic is not my area of expertise. I am an enchantress." The girl seemed oblivious to the king's anger, which only incensed Arthur further.

"We are done here," he declared. "Elyan? If you would be so kind as to restrain our little enchantress?"

The knight dismounted from his horse, silver shackles in his hands. Silver and gold, very rare, very precious metals, that, if tempered correctly, could render a sorcerer unable to access their magic. Arthur was glad of this particular nugget of information from the Great Purge.

The girl scowled, but with the knights all around her, she would not dare do anything.

NO ONE'S POV

Merlin came back at that moment, and only Yara, Gwaine, and Lancelot noticed him wince as the shackles were clasped around Yara's tiny wrists, which were scarred beneath her long sleeves.

Yara, Gwaine, and Lancelot could also tell that he'd been able to find the river, because the hems of his sleeves were damp, but both of them also noticed that the water skin was just as full as it had been when he'd left.

But only Yara Mair noticed the knife Merlin slipped into the saddle bag through a slight-of hand.


	10. Monster

Merlin POV

When they got back to the citadel, Arthur called an emergency council session to discuss Yara's fate. Merlin really just wanted to go to bed, to get some rest, but he followed Arthur dutifully as he made his way to the council chambers.

Merlin hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, worried for Yara. The cuffs on her wrists . . . he shuddered involuntarily. They had sent off a bad something, like an emptiness. The absence of even air and magic. Absently, Merlin rubbed at his wrists. They were sore from his time at the river, and he knew he should probably get something to stave off infection as soon as he got back to Gaius.

The council meeting went quickly. Quickly in a downward spiral. "Her running is only more evidence of her guilt, Sire," one of the men had said.

"She still has not said anything denying having a connection to the disappeared game," said another. Merlin should have guessed that that would have worried these men more than anything else.

And then the trump card. "She is a sorcerer. Your father would have killed her immediately. Sorcerers are evil, or have you forgotten, Sire?"

"I have not forgotten, thank you," Arthur's reply was cold, and the noble shrank back a little in his seat. "I know that many of the facts point to this girl's guilt, but I do not think killing her is the answer. She is too young."

"So you would banish her and wait for her to join with Morgana?" asked another man, whose beard was more grey than brown. "All sorcerers are evil and work for the downfall of Camelot. Have you ever met an innocent sorcerer? In any case, how do you know that this is her true age? Surely the villagers would have been able to apprehend a child, as you call her. Perhaps this is all a spell."

"We have taken precautions to make sure she cannot use magic," Arthur pointed out.

"Ah, but how do we know for sure how well these chains, these tempered metals work? Perhaps they cannot stop a spell already enacted. We do not know. And she speaks in a way unbefitting of a child, especially a girl."

"She has been on her own for a long time," Arthur said, and Merlin felt his heart leap at the thought that Arthur was defending Yara.

"Exactly. No girl that age could survive a winter on her own, not without using much magic to keep warm and stealing food. There are no reports of a young girl stealing food throughout the winter in the area she was found." The councilman leaned forward. "I implore you, my King, kill this monster before she joins Morgana and threatens Camelot."

"How do we know that is what she would do?" Arthur asked, and it was only because Merlin knew Arthur so well that he heard the exhaustion and unsureness beneath the authority in the King's voice. "She has shown no hate for Camelot, and spoken with respect at times."

"What about the threat she issued to you when she was being taken to the dungeon?" asked another lord, who was clothed in rick purple velvet. Merlin could remember only too well. 'Don't be a murderer, Arthur Pendragon. It will break your world around you.' That had been what Yara had said. Of course the council would see that as a threat. "If you let her go free, the innocents of Camelot will suffer for it."

"Very well," Arthur said quietly. "The girl will executed by hanging in three days." Merlin felt the floor drop out from under him. The room was spinning and he could feel a sort of hopelessness clawing its way up his throat. He barely heard the rest of the conversation.

"But Sire, is it not protocol to kill a sorcerer by fire?"

"No," the word was positively growled. "I will not subject a child to that torture, no matter what they have done or may do in the future. This meeting is adjourned." The King stood, and with him, the council. The Nobles left, leaving Merlin standing there, words ringing in his ears.

'Monster . . .'

'Executed by hanging in three days . . .'

'Kill by fire . . .'

And then he was running, running down the hallways, tears stinging his eyes. The aching of his wrists forgotten, the exhaustion of the night before but a shadow of a memory in the back of his mind.

Merlin barreled into the physician's room, noticing with some relief that Gaius wasn't there. He closed the door behind him, but didn't lock it. What was the point? And then a tear dripped down his cheek; like a dam breaking, Merlin simply couldn't hold it in any longer. He collapsed on his bed, arms wrapped around his chest. Arthur was going to kill her. He was going to kill Yara. Then it really sank in. He had failed. Arthur didn't believe that magic wasn't evil. There wasn't anything he could do to save her. Arthur wasn't allowing anyone to see her, and there were more guards than usual, due to the fact that she had been able to escape before. It was his fault, this whole mess. He should have protected her, should have talked to Arthur on the way back to Camelot, somehow, he should have found out what he planned on doing.

Merlin's hand fumbled for the knife, and he rested the cool blade against the skin of left wrist. The only thing that kept his hand still was the thought of Gaius and Gwen. Gaius was like a father to him, Gwen like a sister, and he knew that this time, this time if he started, he would not be able to stop. 'Executed by hanging in three days . . .' Cut.

'Have you ever met an innocent sorcerer?' Cut.

'If you let her go free, the innocents of Camelot will suffer . . .' Cut.

Eventually, Merlin's mind lost its ability to form coherent thoughts. They slipped from his mind as the blood slipped from the tips of his fingers to stain the dark wood. He'd be hitting the bottom soon, it wouldn't be long now.

Just as dark sparks were eating away at his vision, another thought came into his mind. 'Monster . . .' Teasingly, Merlin ran the tip of the blade against his skin, tracing the word against a pale backdrop. He decided it would show up better if the letters were in red.


	11. Oh gods, the Blood

The council meeting hadn't quite gone as planned. He didn't really want to execute the girl . . . banishing her was the worst that could have been done were she just a typical cow-thief. The problem was that she was not. The laws his father made still stood, and, to be honest, Arthur wasn't sure he was ready to repeal them. Magic was evil, just look at what it had done to Morgana. She'd become a monster, an enemy of Camelot. And yet . . . he had trouble seeing that young girl down in the dungeons as a monster.

Suddenly, Arthur noticed that his feet weren't taking him to his chamber, but rather toward the dungeon. He stopped, lurching a little as he realized this. Why would he be going down to the dungeons? Unless . . . he supposed that Yara at least deserved to know what was going to happen to her, and when. He continued walking.

He passed the guards, who bowed as he passed. He nodded back, his feet still carrying him forward. Something was drawing him towards the girl. Something like . . . magic. For some reason, this did not alarm him as much as it should.

The girl looked up when he stopped in front of the cell, her face tear-streaked. "What . . ."

"You are to be executed by hanging in three days' time," Arthur said, and even to him, his voice sounded tired.

He could tell the girl was trying not to sob, as silent tears fell from her blue eyes. "Then please," she said quietly. "Take these words as the last request of a dead girl. Find Merlin. Please."

Find . . . what? Why would she tell him to find Merlin? She sounded almost scared, though why a sorcerer would be scared for his manservant was beyond him. She must have seen the confusion on his face, for the girl spoke again, quickly, almost spitting the words at him. "He has a kind heart, unlike you! He will not take well to this!"

"You want me to comfort a servant?" he asked incredulously. What was this girl getting at?

"If you don't, you'll be sorry." There was something in the way she said the words, not threatening, but tired, scared, and pitying. She was pleading with him to listen to her. "Please . . . the final request of a dead girl," she said.

With a sigh, Arthur stood. "Alright. But you have now made you last request on behalf of my manservant."

"I think I can live with that for my remaining days," was the girl's response.

Arthur turned and left, and whatever force it was that had been compelling him to go to the girl was gone. He supposed that it would do no harm to find Merlin. He needed his chamber cleaned anyways.

But when he'd checked the armory, his chambers, the kitchens, and even the council rooms, and found no trace of Merlin, he started to get worried. Gwaine didn't know where Merlin was either, and was all too willing to search the taverns for his elusive friend. As Arthur rounded a corner, heading towards Gaius' chambers, he almost ran into Lancelot.

"Have you seen Merlin?" he asked quickly, trying not to sound as worried as he felt. For some reason, the slight annoyance that was usually present when he couldn't find his manservant had morphed into a worry a little too close to fear.

"No Sire, in fact, I've been looking for him too, since Gwaine told me how he'd gotten permission to go off to the taverns in the middle of the day."

"Have you checked Gaius'?" Arthur asked, indicating the direction from which the knight had come.

"No one was in the main room, but Merlin's door was closed. I didn't hear anyone inside though, and I thought it best not to snoop in Merlin's room."

"Probably," Arthur said, thinking of the disaster area Merlin's room had been the last time he'd seen it.

"He wasn't in the stables or laundry room, I was just about to check the armory . . ."

"I've checked, he's not there. Or in the kitchens, or my chambers . . ." Arthur trailed off. "Maybe we'd better check his room."

Lancelot turned, and Arthur followed him to the physician's chambers. As Lancelot had said, the main room was deserted, Gaius' bag gone, indicating that he was perhaps making rounds in the lower town. The door to Merlin's room was closed, but the handle turned easily when Lancelot gripped it. The knight pulled the door open, and froze in the doorway.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, moving from the table he was leaned against to Merlin's doorway. And froze himself. Because this wasn't real. This wasn't happening. There was no way in Hell . . . . Then the scent of the blood hit him, and Arthur ran with Lancelot to the corner of the room where Merlin was huddled, surrounded by a pool of blood. Gods, the blood. It was everywhere. The bed, the floor, Merlin's legs, his feet, his hands, his arms, the knife . . . wait . . . knife? Arthur's mind was muddled, he couldn't think. Dimly, he supposed he must be going into shock.

Lancelot was speaking, something about bandages; to stop the bleeding, Arthur supposed. He pressed shaking hands to the wounds . . . gods, what wounds. All over his arm, cuts still oozing blood, spilling Merlin's life around Arthur's trembling fingers. And Merlin shouldn't be bleeding like this. No living thing should have this much blood inside it, let alone lose it all.

Lancelot grabbed his shoulder, and Arthur was jerked from his daze. Lancelot held Merlin's neckerchief in his hand, and Arthur moved so Lancelot could wrap it around Merlin's left wrist, where the bleeding was heaviest. But it wasn't just the wrist. The whole arm was covered in blood, as if someone had painted it with red paint. Lancelot took the knife from Merlin's limp fingers, and Arthur didn't even want to think of why the hilt of the blade had been resting in Merlin's palm.

Arthur's fingers fumbled with the hem of his tunic, tearing off the bottom inch and wrapping the rest of the arm in the red cloth. It didn't help his helplessness that the shade quickly darkened to a near-black. "Find Gaius," he said, and he didn't care that his voice was hoarse, thick with as yet unshed tears. Something in his tone must have brooked no argument, for Lancelot didn't argue as he left, stumbling a little himself.

Quickly, Arthur grabbed a blanket from the bed, tearing it into strips and not caring that it, too, was stained with blood. No time to be picky right now, not while Merlin was dying . . . . And Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat. Quickly, he bandaged Merlin's other wrist, and put his fingers to Merlin's neck, searching for a pulse, 'cause he couldn't be gone yet. The idiot still had to clean his chambers and muck out the stables and tell him he was a prat and DAMN IT ALL, HE COULDN'T LOSE MERLIN!

The pulse beneath his blood-soaked fingers was unsteady, weakly keeping Merlin alive, and Arthur's own heart skipped a beat when Merlin's did. And Merlin's skin was so cold. Quickly, Arthur gathered his servant- no, friend- no, more than that . . . his brother- into his arms. He pulled Merlin up onto the bed, wrapping his arms around him to get him to WARM UP! Please gods, don't let Merlin die.

"Don't you dare die, Merlin, don't you dare. If you die, I swear, I will bring you back from the dead just to put you in the stocks for a month!" He sobbed into Merlin's hair, and he didn't care if anyone were to walk in at that moment. His brother was hurt, was cold as . . . as . . . no. Arthur refused to entertain that thought at all. It was too frightening, particularly with Merlin actually so close to the edge.

Blood soaked through the makeshift bandages, and Arthur tore more of the sheet into strips, difficult with Merlin situated leaning back against his chest. Eventually, Arthur gave up trying to get his trembling fingers to tear the cloth, simply bundling Merlin closer to him, holding him resolutely, because Merlin WOULD NOT DIE. He wouldn't, because Merlin was Merlin, and he was too stubborn to die . . . right?


	12. Almost Explained Everything

Lancelot POV

As if his day hadn't been bad enough to start with. Lancelot had been worried about Merlin after what had happened with the girl, what was set to happen to her in three days' time. But he'd never thought of this as a possible outcome. The idea of Merlin hurting himself . . . it was one that didn't fit. One that did not fit who Merlin was, the man Lancelot knew him to be. The young man who put up with Arthur and Gwaine with a smile on his face (Gwaine was actually not too bad, come to think of it), who had made Arthur into the great, kind king he was today. The Merlin who laughed at jokes and blanched at the idea of killing rabbits.

Lancelot sprinted through the lower town, scanning the crowd for Gaius; not seeing the old man anywhere. Suddenly, a familiar building came into view. Perhaps he would find help there. Well . . . actually there was no perhaps about it. He would drag Gwaine away from whatever rink he'd bought if he had to.

He entered the tavern, maneuvering around the crammed tables toward the back where Gwaine was entertaining a young lady with what appeared to be a grossly exaggerated story.

"Gwaine," Lancelot hissed, pulling the other knight up by the arm.

"Wha' is it man? Come on . . . get offa me . . ." The slurred words and empty tankard on the table told Lancelot all he needed to know. His friend was drunk, but not too drunk to help.

"It's Merlin," he said, his tone conveying that it wasn't something good about Merlin.

Gwaine paled, plunking a coin on the table and saying good-bye to the girl before standing up in a hurry and following his brother in arms out the door.

"What happened?" He asked, urgency coloring his words. Lancelot debated on what to tell him. The knight was at least as loyal to Merlin as Lancelot was, perhaps it would be a good idea to withhold the details for now if they were to find Gaius.

"He's hurt, badly. Gaius is in the lower town, but I can't find him."

"You check the market, I'll look around," Gwaine said, and turned to go.

"Wait," Lancelot called, a thought coming to him. "If you find him, come find me after he gets to the Citadel. There can be no delays."

Gwaine nodded, and disappeared down the street. Lancelot turned, shielding his eyes against the sun, and plunged into the busy market.

GWAINE POV

It hadn't taken too long to find Gaius, actually, it was lucky coincidence. Gwaine had just turned the corner and there he was, stepping down from a building's stoop, closing his bag.

"Gaius!" He called, catching the old physician's attention.

"What is it, Sir Gwaine?"

"It's Merlin. Lancelot said he's badly hurt," Gwaine said, and suddenly learned how fast an old man could move. Gwaine jogged to catch up to the physician, trying to part the crowd in front of him so they could get to the Citadel quicker.

"Oi! Lance!" The knight looked up as they passed through the market place and ran to meet them.

"Sir Lancelot," Gaius greeted him.

"Gaius," was the curt response as they passed through the Citadel gates. "He's in his room . . ." Lancelot said, and Gwaine noted the tremor in his voice as he said it.

"How badly is his wound?" he asked quietly as they made their way to the physician's chambers. Lancelot just shook his head, pressing a hand over his mouth . . . and . . . were those . . . tears!? No way. No way in Hell was Lancelot crying . . . Gwaine had never seen him cry. Sure, he'd looked sad before . . . but as for tears, well, now Gwaine was almost afraid of what he'd find in Merlin's room.

The door to Merlin's room was open when they got there, and Gwaine entered the room behind Gaius. He almost didn't need to look at Merlin to know what happened. The smell of blood, the knife abandoned in a blood-drenched corner. He'd seen this before, done by men with nothing left but a bunch of debt and no way out. But . . . Merlin? No, oh gods . . . please no . . . .

When Gwaine turned his attention to the bed, where Gaius was instructing Lancelot to grab things from the other room, his breath stopped. Arthur was sitting on the hard mattress, Merlin pulled against him, tear tracks glittering on the King's face. Gwaine stumbled towards them, shaking hand pressing lightly into Merlin's neck, searching for a pulse. Gods . . . he was so cold, so pale, so . . . still. Gwaine felt the ground dropping out from under his feet. There was blood on the sheets, blood on Arthur's hands, blood on Merlin's clothes, his feet, soaking through the bandages on his arms. Blood everywhere, so much of it that Gwaine almost looked around for another body. Then he felt the pulse of life under his fingers. Thready, weak, and tired, but there. Oh gods . . . Merlin was alive.

"What happened?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"Don't know," said Arthur, shifting slightly under Merlin's weight. "Gaius . . . do you . . .?"

"I have . . . an idea, Sire," Gaius said as Lancelot came back with water, a pot, and clean bandages. "What was the verdict on the Mair girl?"

"Sentenced to hanging in three days' time," Arthur murmured. Then he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall with a groan. "She told me," he said. "The sorceress told me, as her dying request, to find Merlin. Do you think she knew?"

"It's possible, Sire, if what she said about being an enchantress is true." At Arthur's questioning glance, Gaius continued. "Before the ban on magic, there were different known types of magical beings. Enchantresses were often times also seers, able to see the future."

"Like Morgana." Arthur's voice was tired, and as Gwaine pulled a chair from the wall to sit on, he winced. Morgana was not something that should be brought up in a time like this.

"Not . . . exactly. Morgana is a seer," Gaius said as he unwrapped the clumsy, blood-soaked bandages from Merlin's wounds. "But she is not an enchantress. Enchantresses are healers, are much like druids in their peace. Very few high-priestesses were enchantresses. Battle-magic is not an enchantress' forte, such as healing-magic is not a mage's forte. There were many different names for magic-folk than sorcerer, Sire."

The pale skin that had been under the bandages was coated with blood, some of it dry, but much of it gleaming and fresh. Gwaine balled his hands into fists to hide the shaking. Gaius dipped one of the bandages into the water, gently cleaning away the blood from the skin. Lancelot stood in the doorway, watching with his hand still firmly over his mouth. Gwaine couldn't blame him. They were knights, they were used to blood . . . but not this. Not this, never this, not Merlin. It was enough that he was injured, the servant was never injured, no matter what situations he got himself into. But the knife, with its blood-stained blade seemed to be taunting him. As if it were saying 'Ah, but there was a side to him you didn't know, wasn't there? A side that you never even imagined, not even when you were most worried.'

A muffled cry from the bed brought his thoughts back to reality. "What is that!?" Arthur's strangled voice had cut through Gwaine's thought like a knife through butter. Gaius had washed away the blood on Merlin's left arm, and the cuts there formed a word.

Gwaine saw red. He was suddenly unable to breathe, unable to speak, hardly able to think. Because the word Merlin had carved into his own skin was a word that . . . that almost explained everything.

MONSTER.


	13. We Are Knights of Camelot

Arthur POV

As Gaius cleaned Merlin's left arm, Arthur's thoughts were running rampant. The sorceress had known. She'd known that Merlin was in danger, and she'd seen fit to help him. But why would an evil sorceress want to help the manservant of King Arthur Pendragon, the man who had sentenced her to death (with the encouragement of his councilors, but he was king, his decision was final)? And had the girl known what Merlin was in danger from? For some reason, he felt like she had.

Arthur held Merlin just a little tighter, as if doing so could reverse everything that had happened today. He'd even let the girl go if it meant that . . . that . . . that Merlin hadn't done . . . this. This wasn't . . . it shouldn't have happened. How could Merlin have been that unhappy? Sure, Arthur had noticed that Merlin had been acting a bit odd for the last few days, but that had been all. Just a little thought in the back of his mind. Arthur watched as Gaius gently cleaned the rest of the dried blood from Merlin's arm, and felt his heart stutter when he realized that there was a word carved into the skin. The word MONSTER.

"What is that!?" Arthur's voice was strangled, as if he didn't have enough air left to say those words. And maybe he didn't. Nothing was right anymore. He was vaguely aware of Gwaine leaving the room, hands clenched in his brown hair, as if suddenly unable to take any more. Arthur might have joined him, but Merlin's dea- no, just weight- but Merlin's weight was resting against him, and the King couldn't bear the thought of letting go. "Gaius?" Tears obscured Arthur's vision, and he couldn't wipe them away without moving his arms from where they held Merlin against him. The tears fell down his cheeks. "Gaius . . . why? What does this mean?" His voice cracked, but Arthur couldn't care less about that.

The physician shook his head, and Arthur saw, with some shock, tears glimmering in the man's eyes. Sure, he knew Merlin was like a son to Gaius, but he'd never, never, seen the man cry before. Arthur looked up towards where Lancelot was still standing against the door frame, as if the old wood was all that was keeping him upright. Merlin had affected so many lives; not just the life of his king. Lancelot, Elyan, Percival, even Gwaine (gods help him) were some the best knights he'd ever had the honor of fighting beside. Without Merlin, none of that would have been possible. Well, Gwen certainly needed to take her fair share of the credit, for helping Merlin make him realize that not all servants were bootlickers, or useless.

Oh gods, Gwen. She didn't know about this. Arthur knew that gentle Guinevere would not react well to this. She was brave and courageous, but none of that had done the Knights or himself any good when presented to this . . . situation.

"Sire?" Gaius' voice brought Arthur out of his thoughts, and, looking down, Arthur noticed that the physician was done treating the wounds, which looked a lot more manageable, covered as they were in white cloth. "We should move him." Gaius said quietly.

Arthur nodded and stood, slipping a hand under Merlin's knees and arms, hoisting the young man up so as to carry him to the other room. He placed Merlin on the small patient's bed, and noticed Gwaine standing in the corner, arms resolutely folded and jaw locked so as not to cry; but it seemed Arthur wasn't the only one unable to hold back tears.

Gaius followed Arthur, and once Merlin was on the bed, he busied about his surrogate son, checking his pulse and consulting a heavy tome that lay open on the nearest table. There was relative silence for a few moments, Arthur's mind too exhausted to do much more thinking. Merlin would have a field day with that, he thought. Lancelot and Gwaine were still standing silently, either lost in their own thoughts, or in the struggle to hold back tears. Arthur wasn't sure which. They probably would have stayed that way for a while, had a knock not come at the door then, the sound making Gwaine jump a little, startled.

Arthur watched the knight open the door a little ways, speaking with whoever was outside briefly before letting them through. It was Elyan. The man's face was set in apprehension, leading Arthur to guess that Gwaine had told him something bad had happened. When he saw Merlin, saw the bandages all along Merlin's lower arm, the pale skin, the blood that still soaked the servant's clothes, his eyes widened and Arthur knew that Elyan knew what had happened. He clamped a hand to his mouth, but still a strangled sound escaped him. He closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head slightly before forcing words from a locked jaw.

"My sister's looking for you. You might want to go find her before she finds this . . ." he trailed off and leaned heavily against the wall. Lancelot clapped Elyan on the shoulder, then moving to put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, steering him out the door.

As soon as the door closed, both men leaned against the wall, letting out long breaths. "What . . . ?" Arthur croaked.

"Best not to dwell on any of that now," said Lancelot. "Think of this as a mission. A quest to tell Gwen and not . . . well . . . scare her."

"Are you kidding?" Arthur asked, with a laugh that sounded a little insane, even to him. "She'll run strait to Gaius' as soon as she sees our expressions."

"Well . . . why don't we find her first, and then see where it goes from there?" Lancelot asked with a quirk of his mouth. It was almost a smirk. Almost.

"That seems as good a plan as any," Arthur agreed, and pushed himself off the wall to walk down the hall, hopefully in the direction of Guinevere.

-TIME BREAK of a few minutes-

LANCELOT POV

They found Gwen leaving Arthur's chambers, a look of annoyance on her pretty features. Lancelot didn't want to tell her what had happened, because really, he was still processing it himself. Not only would telling her scare her, but it would make it real. A large part of him was still hoping feverishly that this was some messed-up dream that he'd wake up from momentarily.

"Arthur! Where've you been?" Gwen asked. "Your dinner's getting cold." Then she asks a question that makes Lancelot's blood run cold. "Where's Merlin?"

Arthur makes this kind of choking noise, like the words are stuck half-way up his throat, but Lancelot makes no noise because he doesn't have the air to support it. It felt like he'd just hit a brick wall.

"What happened?" Gwen asked quietly, her voice low, almost pleading. Pleading that it isn't something bad, that they just don't know where Merlin is either. But Lancelot can't give her that. He's never been able to lie to Guinevere. And, he knew, neither has Arthur. Not since he really got to know her.

Something in Lancelot's mind must have been working, because he gets them all into Arthur's chamber. Better to say this kind of thing where there are less gossipy servants around to over-hear and spread it around. "Something . . . happened Gwen," Arthur says, and Gwen sinks into a strait-backed chair, as if she was a puppet whose strings were cut. Arthur walked over to her, sinking into a chair himself. Lancelot leaned against one of the bedposts.

"What is it?" She asked, and Lancelot could hear how she struggled to remain calm.

"Merlin's been hurt . . . he lost a lot of blood. Gaius is treating him now . . ." the King trailed off, running his hand over his eyes. "It's bad, Gwen. Really bad."

"How was he hurt?" Gwen asks, and now her voice trembled. Lancelot remembered Merlin saying something about Gwen being the first friend he'd had in Camelot. Arthur looks to Lancelot now, a slight panic on his features; and Lancelot understood. How were they going to tell Gwen what their friend had done to himself?

"Arthur," Gwen's voice held a grain of warning, and Arthur's hand twitched toward his arm. Gwen's eyes widened, and she gasped.

"No . . ." she said, and looked to Lancelot in desperation. Why did everyone look to him to tell them it wasn't true? Wordlessly, he shook his head. "No . . . he wouldn't, please gods . . ." then Gwen ran out of the room, running as fast as she could towards Gaius' chambers. Without a word, Lancelot and Arthur followed her.

When they reached to physician's chambers, Gwen let out a pained cry. Merlin lay, pale as he had been when the two young men had left a few minutes ago. Elyan folded his sister into a hug, and Lancelot watched as Arthur pulled up a stool to sit beside Merlin. "How is he?" Arthur asked Gaius, voice rough.

"There's not much more I can do for him," Gaius said quietly. "He's lost a lot of blood, and if he doesn't . . . if he doesn't fight to live there's nothing anyone can do for him." Lancelot felt the air leave him again. He turned to look at Gwaine, who was white as a ghost. Still, despite the shock on his friend's face, Lancelot also noticed that the knight was thinking. No doubt trying to find a way to make Merlin live, to force him to fight. And why shouldn't he? Merlin was their friend, and honestly, he kept them together. Without Merlin they would never have met each other, let alone become knights. He really wasn't allowed to just give up. So when Gwaine left, Lancelot went with him, Gwen's sobs still echoing in his mind.

"What are you thinking?" Lancelot asked quietly as they walked down the stone hallways.

"I'm thinking I'm an utter idiot," Gwaine said. "How long did you know?"

"How long did I know what?" Lancelot asked cautiously.

Gwaine snorted. "Don't play stupid, Lance. Merlin's magic. How long did you know?"

"Since he saved Arthur and me with it," Lancelot responded, a defensive tone in his voice. "If you really think that this makes Merlin evil, then . . ." but Gwaine cut him off.

"Oh, don't get that way. I traveled long enough to know that Uther's tirade against magic had little to nothing to do with the so-called evils of sorcery. Magic isn't evil, it's the person who uses it." Gwaine stopped and sighed. "I know I can't blame Princess for . . . well, for what his father did, but he should have lifted those restrictions long ago. None of this would have happened."

Lancelot nodded. "The problem is telling him it isn't evil and still having time to explain why we think so without being put behind bars."

"That Yara Mair girl seemed to be able to do it. Why do you think Arthur didn't mind it?"

Lancelot sighed. "I didn't know Morgana very well, but I think, from the stories I've heard and my brief time as a knight before I left, I think she might remind Arthur of her. She's not afraid to say what she thinks, and she's really rather sarcastic."

"Arthur said that Yara told him to find Merlin," Gwaine said, his expression thoughtful. "I think it's about time we went to pay the girl a visit."

"The King said no one is allowed to see her."

"Do you think that was Arthur, or the council talking?" Gwaine asked. "Honestly, the council has more sway over him than I think it should. Bunch of high-and-mighty Nobles only wanting more power." Lancelot couldn't help but agree with the sentiment.

"Besides," Gwaine continued. "Are we, or are we not, knights of Camelot? I think we can sneak past a couple of probably drunk guards."


	14. Talking With Yara

GWAINE POV

Gwaine and Lancelot had marched right past the guards, the swords at their hips and the furious expression on Gwaine's face deterring any argument. But if the guards were to stop them, they had decided to say they were interrogating the prisoner. A simple enough answer that the guards would no doubt have gobbled up like the food the serving girls would bring down.

"What's with the swords?" the girl asked as they came within view of the cell.

"We grabbed them so we could say we were interrogating you," Gwaine said.

"But that's not why you're here," she said, gazing at them with knowing, blue eyes.

"It's . . . well, it's our friend. Merlin. He's . . . well, he's injured," Gwaine said quietly, lowering his eyes a little in the hope that she'd not spot the half-truth. What Merlin did was Merlin's business, and though Gwaine planned on having a long talk with the young man once all this was over (for heaven's sake . . . Merlin owed him a good mug of mead at least for all this worrying about him), this girl need not know.

"So the King saw the results of all his good work," the girl muttered, looking down at the floor, but not before Gwaine caught a glimpse of the sullen expression on the girl's face.

"You know what happened?" Lancelot asked from behind him.

"Do I know how he was hurt?" the girl asked, looking back up at them. "Yes I do, in more ways than one." So-saying, the girl yanked her sleeves up. "It's the emotional hurt that's often the hardest to bear. You both know about Merlin's secret," she said, as the knights stared, somewhat uncomprehendingly at the scars that showed around the edge of the shackles.

"Yeah, just figured it out, actually." Gwaine murmured.

"I've known for a while," Lancelot admitted.

The girl shook her head. "You think you do," she said. "But poor Merlin's more than just a warlock-"

"A what?" Gwaine asked.

"He was born with magic," Yara responded. "As I was saying, Merlin's not just a warlock, he's the most powerful warlock ever born. The druids call him Emrys, the savior."

"And . . . I'm guessing that's a big thing," Gwaine said, completely mystified as he sat down on the cold stone floor in order to look at the girl's face easier. The girl snorted.

"No kidding. Emrys is supposed to bring back magic to Camelot, along with the 'Once and Future King', who is apparently your King Arthur."

"Wait," Gwaine said, trying to stop himself from laughing. "Arthur Pendragon, as in Uther Pendragon's son, is supposed to bring back magic to Camelot? Are you serious?"

"This isn't a joke, Sir Knight," Yara said, sharply. "This is the future, the making of Albion."

"The making of what?"

The girl sighed. "Nothing. The point is, Merlin's been under a lot of stress, keeping all of this from his friends, especially King Arthur. And . . . unfortunately I think he got rather attached to me."

"So you're saying . . . that Merlin was hurt because Arthur decided to execute you?" Gwaine couldn't keep the anger out of his voice this time. He was going to kill the King.

"It would have been more the Nobleman's council's decision than Arthur's," Lancelot said quietly.

"That's true," Yara said quietly. "I'm thinking that what really got to Merlin was a lot of what was said. I'm assuming he was with Arthur while the decision was being made?"

"I'd be surprised if he wasn't," Lancelot said. "He's always with Arthur."

"I'd blame the Nobles more than Arthur," the girl said, leaning back against the wall of the cell. "They probably made some . . . unflattering comments about magic. And it's not like Merlin was particularly emotionally stable at the time either."

"What do ya mean . . . not emotionally stable?" Gwaine asked.

"I'm guessing you both noticed . . . in the forest? I'm guessing you now know what he left to do?"

"Oh . . ." Gwaine breathed, remembering how Merlin had gone to get water and returned with a half-full water-skin. How the hem of his sleeves had been darkened with what he had thought had been water, but must have been . . . blood. "But . . . there was no knife," Gwaine said, though he knew he was grasping at straws. How could he not have noticed!?

"He got pretty good at hiding things like that, I'm guessing." Yara sighed, letting her head fall back against the wall. "You'll need to help him, when he wakes up. If I die before he wakes up, I need you to not let him out of your sight for . . . a long time. Until you're sure he's alright."

"That . . . that could take a while," Lancelot said sadly.

"You need to be there for him," Yara said quietly. "If I'd had someone, I might not have taken it as far as I did."

"What made you stop?" Lancelot asked from behind Gwaine.

"The same reason I started. My little brother," the girl said. "He was killed by Uther's men a few years ago, leaving me alone. I got . . . well, I didn't see how my life was ever going to get better, so . . . I started self-destructing. But . . . I stopped when I had a dream. I'm not a seer, not exactly. But sometimes I have visions. And . . . well, one of them made me realize that my brother would have wanted me to live, to help others." She sighed. "Merlin doesn't have that. But what he does have, is you."

"Us." Lancelot said, sounding slightly incredulous. Gwaine turned to look at his friend, who was pale and tired-looking. "We didn't even notice anything was over-wrong. I mean, sure we noticed he was acting odd, but we never thought it was . . . this dire." The hopelessness in Lancelot's voice caught Gwaine's attention, making him look closer at the man. Lancelot's face was drawn, his eyes had a haunted look about them, and he was hunched over a little, as if bowed over from the weight of the past few hours.

"C'mon, Lance. Let's go have a talk with Queeny," he said, and tugged the other up to a standing position with him. "Thank-you," he said to the girl. "You won't be killed . . . not if I have anything to say about it."

"Don't do anything stupid!" The girl called after them, and Gwaine bit back a chuckle. They could try, but whatever they did probably wouldn't ever be attempted by anyone who was any semblance of sane. So . . . it was probably a good thing that he'd never really been interested in his own welfare.


	15. Where the Blame Falls

Lancelot POV

Lancelot let Gwaine tug him out of the dungeons, past the guards, and into the hallway. Once out of view of any guards, he stopped, pulling Gwaine to a stop too. "Look, Gwaine," he said. "I know you're angry at Arthur-"

"Angry?" Gwaine asked. "What about? The fact that Merlin's hurt because of Arthur's childish need to continue in his father's footsteps?" He leaned against the wall, knuckling his eyes.

"Arthur doesn't know about the magic," Lancelot said quietly, leaning against the rough stone wall next to his friend. "We need to be careful about how we handle this."

Gwaine hummed in response, then began walking again. Lancelot hurried to catch up. "I'm serious Gwaine," he hissed. "I don't know how Arthur would react to news like that." Gwaine kept walking. "Gwaine!"

He turned, a dark look on his face. "We can still make Queeny see it's his fault, with or without the magic."

"That's not the point to this," Lancelot said, exasperated. "We're not playing the blame game here, Gwaine. We just need to help Merlin."

"Yeah, and to help him, we need to get-" Gwaine stopped talking as guards marched past. He lowered his voice. "We need to get magic back to Camelot."

"We can't tell Arthur," Lancelot insisted. "Merlin wanted to do it."

"Why? So Arthur could kill him where he stands and regret it terribly later?" Gwaine asked sarcastically. "Does Merlin have no self-preservation? Don't answer that."

"Merlin wanted to do it himself so that he could explain things to Arthur. To tell him all he'd done for Arthur and for Camelot. So that Arthur knew that Merlin trusted him with his secret." Lancelot sighed. He wasn't sure Arthur would ever really be worthy of Merlin's trust, not if the King continued to listen to the Noble council as much as he did.

"I think Merlin will have to wait a long time," Gwaine said. "If the Mair girl's sentence is anything to go on. Now come on," he said, nodding impatiently down the hallway. "I want to make sure my friend is alright." Lancelot didn't find it likely that Merlin would have made a miraculous recovery while they had been talking with the enchantress, so he doubted Merlin was any semblance of 'alright'.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Still Lancelot POV

Lancelot and Gwaine entered the physician's chambers to find it almost unchanged since they had left, except that Percival had since arrived, and was standing next to Elyan, forcefully looking everywhere but at Merlin. Merlin who, if possible, looked even paler than when they had left.

"Gaius says that if Merlin can live through the night, his chances of survival are much higher," Gwen said quietly, fighting tears. Her red eyes and glistening cheeks gave evidence that this battle had been fought and lost earlier. "But his chances now are . . . almost nothing." Lancelot glanced at Arthur, still sitting by the bed, head in his hands. Pale fingers gripped blond hair, muscles taught. "I can't get Arthur to leave," Gwen said, following Lancelot's gaze. "Not even to eat. He's really shaken by this."

"As he should be," Gwaine said quietly. Lancelot shot him a look that he hoped said 'shut up'. Gwaine made a noise of annoyance. "I'm gonna go hit something with my sword," he said, and stalked out of the room. Gwen looked at Lancelot, worry in her eyes. He just shook his head.

"This is taking it out of all of us," the knight said apologetically. Gwen nodded, and Lancelot went to stand behind Arthur. "Sire?" he asked. Arthur turned to look at him, and Lancelot was shocked by the red eyes and the drawn, exhausted expression on the normally regal King.

"Yes, Lancelot?" he asked, his voice matching his face.

"You should eat something," Lancelot said. In fact, they should probably all eat something, but Arthur most of all. It was a little past supper time, and due to the council meeting, Arthur hadn't had much of a lunch.

"Later," Arthur said.

"Arthur," Gwen came to crouch next to the king now. "Merlin's not going to get better just because you're sitting next to him. You need to eat something and get some rest." Arthur looked down at Gwen, then up at Gaius, who was sitting on the other side of the bed, sponging Merlin's brow with a wet rag.

"You'll send for me if anything changes Gaius?" Arthur asked.

"Of course, Sire."

Arthur nodded and allowed Guinevere to help him out of the chair and to the door. She looked back and smiled thankfully at Lancelot, who could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. He really shouldn't feel that way about Gwen . . . and now was definitely not the time to think about that. He took Arthur's now vacant seat. He vacantly heard Gaius shepherding Elyan and Percival out to get something to eat too.

"Did you know?" Lancelot asked into the resulting silence. Gaius delayed a while in answering, eventually speaking in a defeated tone.

"No. I did notice that he seemed to be feeling down, but that's been happening off and on for a while. I imagine it had something to do with his destiny. I never imagined it to be something this bad." Lancelot hummed in agreement, glancing down at Merlin's face. The pale skin, the occasional twitching of dark eyelashes that ghosted over his prominent cheekbones. "What did the girl say?"

Lancelot's head shot up, and he looked at the old man in surprise. "How did you . . .?"

The man chuckled. "Sir Gwaine seemed rather angry when you came back. I imagine you were told something he didn't like."

"Neither of us particularly liked what she told us," Lancelot said. "How blind were we? To not notice how . . . put down Merlin was? Or, at least me. I knew of Merlin's magic. I really should have at least guessed that this much stress would take its toll."

"We can't blame ourselves," Gaius said. "What is done is done. All we can do is try to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"That's what Yara said, more or less," Lancelot said. "But Gwaine's pretty bent on blaming Arthur."

"Why does he blame Arthur?"

"He . . . may have figured out about Merlin's magic."

Gaius just laughed. "Well, things could be worse. I think Merlin could use another person to confide in." Then he sighed. "I suppose he blames Arthur for this because of the girl's sentencing?"

"Yes."

"I think that that certainly had something to do with this. But," he said, before Lancelot could respond, "I don't blame Arthur. The boy has much on his shoulders, and the Noble's council certainly doesn't help. Geoffrey told me they were rather insistent that the girl be burned, but Arthur wouldn't hear of it. I rather think Arthur is not quite used to the power he wields as King."

"What do you think Arthur's reaction would be if he knew?"

"About Merlin's magic? I think, well, I like to think, that Arthur would at least let Merlin explain everything before doing anything. But we can't know for sure. We can only hope Merlin eventually tells Arthur."

Which could only happen, Lancelot thought, if Merlin was alive in the morning to say it.


	16. Morning Come

LANCELOT POV

It was a long night. Lancelot stayed up with Merlin, encouraging Gaius to get some sleep when the older man started moving slower. Gaius had given him a fresh bowl of cold water and a cloth, along with instructions to wake him if Merlin got much worse. Which, if he was honest with himself, Lancelot didn't see as possible. Merlin's fever had only risen since the others had left, the boy was drenched in sweat, his chest barely rising. The bandages had been changed, and the new dressings were slowly becoming stained with red. His face flushed red with fever, except where it was almost white from blood loss.

Lancelot quietly sponged Merlin's brow, trying to cool him down. The warlock whimpered quietly, and Lancelot stopped for a moment, hoping for the eyes to open, for just a sliver of blue surrounded by the red eyelids. But nothing happened, and Lancelot re-soaked the cloth, wrung it out, and placed it again on Merlin's sweaty forehead. Taking another cold, wet cloth, Lancelot dabbed along his friend's neck. Lancelot could feel the heat of the skin through the cloth, the fever rising a little more. A little too much.

Merlin began gasping, as though he couldn't get enough air, and Lancelot quickly shook Gaius awake. The old physician hurried to his ward's side, instructing Lancelot to roll him onto his side. Gaius checked Merlin's pulse, frowning as he pressed fingers to the boy's neck. Lancelot felt fear flow through him, filling him and obscuring his vision.

"What's wrong?" He choked out once he could talk.

"His magic should be healing him," Gaius said, moving quickly to the table still covered in various potion ingredients. "But it isn't."

"Meaning?" Lancelot asked, sitting back down on the chair by the patient bed.

"Another side effect of the fear that permeates Merlin's life," Gaius said sadly. "When he first came to Camelot, he could use magic instinctually. The fear of discovery made Merlin gather a lot more control of his powers. He keeps a tight lid on his magic, and has lost much of his instinctual power."

"So his magic won't heal him?" Lancelot asked, watching as Gaius flitted around the table, gathering things that . . . Lancelot was pretty sure he didn't want to know.

"It will heal him," Gaius said absently. "But we need to unlock it. The last time Merlin was really able to do magic like this while . . . unconscious, was when he was poisoned, before you came. Arthur was in trouble, and Merlin's magic responds to that."

"To Arthur being in trouble."

"Arthur is his destiny," Gaius said in response to the incredulity in the knight's voice. "The reason Merlin has magic at all. The magic was able to break the tight hold he had on it, to help Arthur. Gwen almost noticed."

Lancelot nodded, turning back to Merlin, whose breathing had eased slightly with the transition to his side. "Why didn't you do this before now?" he asked, going back to his job of sponging the sweaty skin.

"I'm not sure how his magic will react," Gaius said quietly, crushing some herbs in a small stone bowl. "This is a kind of last resort. Either his magic will heal him, or it will be too much for him to handle." Lancelot heard what Gaius was not saying. Either the magic will save Merlin, or it will kill him.

"Is there nothing else we can do?"

Gaius shook his head. "There's no time for other things, and if Merlin has lost the will to live, he's not going to be helping us. We have to encourage his magic to help him."

The half-moon outside the window bathed the windowsill in a mystical light, but the candles that had been lit inside the room chased it away, kept the cold light outside. For a moment though, as a breeze came from the open window and made the candles flicker, the moon shone brighter across the room. Merlin's face was cast into sharp relief, his cheekbones suddenly sharper and his eyes sunken. He looked almost ghostly, as though he had died and come back. Lancelot shook that thought from his head. His mind was slow with sleep deprivation and the stress of the previous day, and it was making him see things. That was all. It was not some crazy premonition.

Gaius came over, stirring a mixture in the small stone bowl as the breeze died down. The physician directed Lancelot to get behind Merlin, and he did so, propping Merlin up in front of his so that his friend's head fell back against his muscular shoulder. Gaius came forward with the mixture, putting it to the feverish boy's lips and tilting it to poor it into his ward's mouth. Gaius gently massaged Merlin's throat with one hand to get the boy to swallow, breathing a sigh of relief as the potion went down.

"This could take a while to take effect," Gaius said quietly, moving to clean the table, hands shaking with delayed stress.

Lancelot stayed put for a while, feeling Merlin's fever through both their shirts. He grabbed a cloth, sponging the back of Merlin's neck, cold drops chasing the sweat down his friend's neck and under the collar of his roughly woven shirt. Exhaustion washed over Lancelot, and the knight carefully extricated himself from behind the servant. Lowering Merlin slowly back down to the mattress, Lancelot almost missed the first spark. It was a bright white-blue, and skittered across the bandages before sinking into a sliver of visible pale skin.

"Gaius," Lancelot said, and the elder man turned back towards the patient's bed. "It's working."

Gaius watched with a critical eye as a few more sparks skittered past the bandages. "We need to remove the bandages," Gaius said. "The magic needs to be able to reach his bare skin." Quickly, Lancelot helped the physician undo the strips of cloth from around Merlin's wrists. The wounds were still leaking beads of bright red blood, and Lancelot had to look away as the word MONSTER was once again bared to the air, feeling the need to vomit, or punch something. Hard.

The sparks came more freely now, streaming from pale, slender fingers and sinking into the ribbons of skin, stitching them together. The skin was regenerating as Gaius and Lancelot watched with baited breath. It would scar, and Lancelot knew that if he went to training the next day, he'd be rather hard on the poor knight that went against him at the thought of the word 'MONSTER' permanently carved into his friend's arm.

But all of that was pushed to the back of his mind about an hour later as the sun began to rise, and Merlin's chest was still rising and falling. It was morning, and Merlin was still alive.


	17. No More Than That

Arthur POV

Arthur was woken in the morning by Gwen. He groaned, turning over as the young woman threw back the curtains. For a moment, Arthur wondered where Merlin was. Then it hit him. "Oh God, Gwen, Merlin," he gasped. And suddenly he could barely breathe. Arthur had no idea how he had fallen asleep last night, because the fear was squeezing his heart so hard it hurt.

"Merlin's alive, Arthur," Gwen said, kissing him lightly on the forehead as he stood up from the bed. "Elyan went to check earlier this morning. Lancelot said there was a scare at some point during the night, but Merlin pulled out of it fine." Arthur was only half-listening from behind the changing screen, but froze in the act of tugging his tunic on over his head when Gwen spoke again. "Gaius says that he's not out of danger yet, though. And he still hasn't woken up yet." He pulled the red fabric down roughly, walking from behind the screen to look at Gwen.

"What does 'not out of danger' mean?" Gwen shrugged, but Arthur could see the worry in her eyes.

"I don't know," she said, "But Arthur . . . I'm afraid." Arthur embraced her quickly, pressing her into him, taking some comfort in her closeness, and hopefully offering some in return. His own heart was thudding in his chest, and it was all he could do not to sprint strait to the physician's rooms. But it wasn't kingly to sprint, so . . . .

"Come on Gwen, let's go check on him," he said quietly, leading her towards the doors.

"Without breakfast," she said quietly. "You do realize you are worried over a servant."

"I can worry about my precious propriety later," Arthur said, echoing Gwen from a conversation that seemed to have taken place a lifetime ago. She gave a quiet chuckle at that, following him out into the castle corridor outside his door.

Servants bustled around them as Arthur and Gwen made their way to Gaius' chambers. A few of them stopped to talk to Gwen, and after the third instance, as Arthur waited impatiently for Gwen to end the conversation, Arthur realized that they were asking after Merlin. They asked with worry in their eyes and fear on their faces. Even a few nobles stopped Gwen with a light touch on her arm, asking after the serving boy. Many times, they offered condolences through the relief that Gwen's news brought. When Arthur asked why, Gwen gave him an exasperated look.

"People aren't thick, Arthur," she said. "Even a few nobles noticed that the two of you are more friends than master and servant."

"Unusual nobles," Arthur noted. Gwen gave a little laugh. The laugh was so different from her laugh, the sound heavier than normal, almost as if it was forced and heavy in her throat.

They arrived at Gaius' chambers not long after that, and Arthur suddenly found the fear welling up again. What if something bad had happened since Gwen had been told Merlin was alright? What if he wasn't alright anymore? What if . . . what if . . . what if . . . .

It was Leon who opened the door to the physician's chambers. Arthur had forgotten that the man was on patrol, and the knight's dirty armor showed that another of the knights had found the man before he had gotten to the armory. Leon looked a little shell-shocked, the skin around his eyes tight and red. Silently, he let them into the room.

Lancelot was sitting against one wall, looking like he had dozed off there a few moments ago, and Gaius was looking through some huge tomes full of healing knowledge. Merlin was still laying on the bed. He looked no different than the day before, and it took Arthur a while after he had sat down to notice that the bandages were gone, the skin crossed in white scars. "What?" he asked quietly, "How did they heal so quickly?"

"A tincture of yarrow," said Gaius, without looking up from his books. Gwen ran dark fingers across Merlin's pale wrists, tracing the scars that stood out there. One particular pattern stood out to Arthur. "Will these scars ever fade?" he asked, his voice suddenly hoarse and breaking. He was afraid, so very afraid. Please, he thought, please say they will.

"I'm afraid they will not," Gaius said sadly, still resolutely facing the books, though Arthur had eyes only for the word carved into Merlin's arm. Arthur wanted to break down at the thought of that word being there forever, a constant reminder of the day . . . of yesterday. MONSTER. Why? Why would Merlin . . . why!?

Leon had leaned against one wall, eyes trained on Merlin's pale, unmoving face. "You'll call for me, Gaius, if anything changes?" He asked hoarsely. Gaius nodded absently, setting aside the book he had been looking at for a moment, before picking up another that littered the table.

Arthur didn't know how long he sat there . . . it was a long time, he supposed, because at some point Gwen had gone to see to some menial task or another with a gentle squeeze of Arthur's shoulder. Merlin was alive, which was good. The wounds had healed quickly, thanks to Gaius' medicine, which was also good. But he still wasn't awake, and something about that scared Arthur. He didn't want any of this to continue. He knew he was shirking his duties as King, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. Merlin would want him to be responsible, he knew this, but Merlin couldn't tell him that, could he? Arthur would gladly hear everything they boy had to say on the matter, if he would just. Wake. Up!

Lancelot woke sometime after the mid-day meal, doing so silently. At that point, Arthur was staring fixedly at the wall, thumb idly stroking the back of Merlin's hand, the only unscarred part of the young servant that Arthur could reach easily.

"He'll be alright," Lancelot said from behind him, making Arthur jump. He didn't mean to snarl back the way he did, he really didn't. But Arthur just couldn't help it.

"You call this alright?" He growled, gesturing towards Merlin's wrists. Toward the word carved into his arms. "What made him do this? Not something that has disappeared in the last day!"

"Maybe if you ask, he'll tell you when he wakes up," The knight said, stretching. "You know," he said as he relaxed again, hands behind his back. "I've heard that unconscious people can still sometimes hear people they care about if those people speak to them. Merlin's really upset about something, maybe if you spoke to him . . ." he must have seen Arthur's incredulous look. "Oh, come on, it's not as if you don't care for him too. As a friend, as a confidant, as your rock. He's those things to the rest of us too. I'm pretty sure the only reason Gwaine hasn't visited yet is because he doesn't think he's brave enough to see his rock like this. Merlin is his driving force, the reason he became a knight at all. The only reason I became one, come to think of it. Without him, I would never have stood a chance."

"None of us would have," Arthur agreed quietly.

"Sometimes," Lancelot said, settling down at the table Gaius had occupied earlier (the physician had had to make rounds in the lower town, life didn't stop, no matter how much they all assumed it would, and should). "Sometimes I think we need to be reminded that Merlin is a human being. That he's not a regular servant. I think there's more to him than what we know."

"There's always been more to him," Arthur said quietly. He didn't even understand why he was being quiet, as if Merlin might overhear. "One moment he's tripping over his own feet, and the next he's telling me that I'll be the greatest king Camelot has ever seen." He gave a bitter laugh. "I'm not really living up to that right now, am I?"

"You're giving it your best shot," Lancelot said, looking down at Merlin. "And he asks no more from you than that."


	18. Must Ask for Guidance

Gwaine POV

Gwaine was too angry to speak. Despite everything that was happening, Yara Mair would still be dying in less than two days. It was just before dinner when Gwen came to find him, asking him if he could speak with the girl tonight. Gwaine knew what the young woman was really asking when she slipped him the keys.

'Do you think you can save this young girl from the gallows?'

At the moment, he was staring at the three large guards that stood outside the girl's cell.

The guards had been posted right outside the cell since the girls' attempted, and marginally successful, escape. Not by Arthur; he wouldn't have had time since the council meeting. Gwaine really hated those old men. It was people like them that made him distrust nobles so much.

He could see the girl huddled in a back corner, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her blond hair fell in waves over her the sides of her legs, the ends brushing the dirty stone floor. As Gwaine stood in shadow, out of the guards' sight, she looked up.

Her blue eyes burned into him, and Gwaine felt even his breath still in his chest. He would have sworn his heart stopped too . . . but . . . well, he was still alive. As far as he knew. The girl tilted her head slightly so that the hair on the left side of her face, pooled on the floor as the right was lifted from said surface. Those eyes were the brightest blue he had ever seen, though they seemed to almost be shimmering.

As Gwaine watched however, tears fell quickly down her cheeks, tears overflowing her eyes, and the color diminished. Almost as if the water had been magnifying the color of her eyes. For some reason, the tears motivated Gwaine. Maybe because of how terrified the poor girl looked. Or maybe he was just tired of hiding in the shadows.

The guards fingered their spears, but otherwise waited motionlessly until the knight was right in front of them. "I'm to relieve you from you duties," he said.

One guard looked through his helmet's slit at the other two before turning back to Gwaine and saying, "Under whose orders?"

"The King's."

"We are under strict orders from the Council to keep the girl from escaping," the guard said, but it was easy to detect the tremor of nervousness in the man's voice.

"Your King is Arthur Pendragon, not the council," Gwaine said angrily. "And if you would like, I could inform him that you are not heeding his orders."

Another guard, this one shorter than the others, tugged on the other's arm. "Come on, Gharet, let's go," he said, and the nervousness present in Gharet's voice also made itself clear in this man's. The guards left, armor clinking and clanking loudly as they made their way through the stone corridors.

Soon enough, the only sound was the crackling of the fire brackets on the walls. The girl was the one who broke the silence. "I don't suppose you happen to have the keys on you?" Gwaine jerked back to himself, and fumbled at the pouch at his belt to pull out the key. The heavy door opened with a creek, the sound echoing down the hallway. Gwaine froze, listening for a few moments, but no shouts came their way, no guards raising the alarms that a prisoner was escaping.

The girl offered him her wrist, where the shackles gleamed silver against her pale skin. Gwaine quickly unlocked those as well, helping the slender girl to stand. She leaned heavily against him, and she was shivering. They had taken away her black cloak, leaving her only in a simple dark grey dress and dark leather boots; Gwaine quickly wrapped his own cloak around her.

She leaned on him heavily as he escorted her through the bars of the cell and into the hallways bathed in flickering fire-light. He turned left, to get back towards the exit from the dungeons, but the girl leaned in the other direction. "There is someone this way that I must ask for guidance," she said.

"Who would you ask for guidance from in the dungeons?"

"He is waiting outside the dungeons this way, through what he tells me is a secret passageway."

"A secret passageway out of the dungeons?" Gwaine asked, surprised.

"There are secret passages in every part of this old castle," she said, and though she was leaned against him so that he could not see her face, he heard the smirk in her voice.

"By all means then, if there is a way out by which we will not have to pass the guards, lead the way."

She leaned gently to the right, and they went that way into the dungeons, going deeper down, the walls of the hallway getting rougher, darker. Eventually, the darkness ahead of them got so thick that Gwaine was forced to go back for a hand-held torch. The small circle of light afforded to them by the flame was just enough to see by, and reflected slightly off the walls.

Yara seemed to gain strength as they went on, walking straighter and leaning less of her weight against the knight. She seemed to know her way around the dungeons of Camelot suspiciously well, Gwaine thought, as she directed them left at yet another intersection. The fourth one on their journey. Eventually, they reached a wall that seemed just like all the others . . . about five corridors ago. To the left and right of this stretch was roughly hewn rock, the stretch itself was made of sturdy brick. It stuck out like a silken tapestry among rough sacks. Yara made him put the torch down, the fire flickering slightly against the stone floors as he set it gently down so that it would not go rolling away down the gently sloping floor.

The door that Yara opened was just large enough for the knight to crawl through, and he could feel the walls constricting slightly as they crawled on; Gwaine began to wonder if it would perhaps have been a good idea to leave his armor behind. His chain-mailed knees scraped against stone as wavering late-afternoon sunlight began to reach his eyes. Yara, who was in front of him, had left the tunnel, and was now reaching a hand down to him to help him up the old stone steps. The passageway hadn't felt all that long, but he realized when he looked back over his shoulder that he was a mile or more from the city of Camelot. Magic? Perhaps. The idea really wasn't so scary.

What was slightly scarier was the dragon standing not twenty feet away from where he and the young enchantress now stood. Gwaine swept the girl behind him as the eased the sword from its sheath. Yara's hand on his arm stopped him, and a gentle pressure from her had him lowering the sharp metal so that the point almost touched the ground.

"Great Dragon," she said, bowing deeply.


	19. The Dragon's Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates may become sporadic again, as classes are restarting and I might get buried pretty quickly, since I'm taking 2 lit classes. Why do I do this to myself? I fail to answer that question every time.

GWAINEPOV

A dragon. Yara was talking to a dragon. The great scaly, fire-breathing thing didn't seem to faze the young enchantress at all. Gwaine was beginning to wonder if the girl had a death wish.

"I am glad to see you come safely out of that prison," the dragon said, and it's voice wasn't exactly how Gwaine had thought a large dragon's would be. It wasn't unearthly or impossibly low. In fact, the only thing that set it apart from a human's voice was how it rumbled as if coming from the depths of the earth herself.

"As I am glad to be free of it, Kilgharrah," Yara said, guardedly. She tugged slightly on the red cloak still draped over her thin shoulders. "Do you know about Merlin?" she asked.

"What has happened to the young warlock?" The dragon asked, and Gwaine felt breath whoosh out of him in surprise. The dragon knew about Merlin? But of course. Of course a large scaly fire-breathing lizard would know about Merlin's magic before Merlin's own friends.

"He . . . he's really badly hurt," Yara said.

Concern seemed to flit across the dragon's scaly features for the barest moment. Then it was gone. "How badly?"

"Before I go on," Yara said, "I want you to promise, to swear on the prophecies, that you will be as straight-forward as I am." What prophecies? Gwaine wondered. "I have questions of my own, and I will have none of your cryptic answers this time."

"You would command the Great Dragon, young enchantress?" the dragon asked quietly, and Gwaine could almost feel the fury in the words.

"The bond between a dragon and his dragonlord is a strong one. But you would accept either way; your curiosity would get the better of you," Yara said. "But the curiosity is eating away at you even now, you want to know why you were unaware that your dragonlord has been hurt," she said, and Gwaine wondered how she could take such a lecturing tone with a dragon who looked just about angry enough to roast her (and him) on the spot. But the dragon nodded it's head jerkily, as if angry at what he was agreeing to. "Thank you." Yara said, and though he did not look at the girl's face, Gwaine was sure she was smiling. "You wanted to know how badly Merlin is hurt?" The dragon nodded again. Yara glanced at Gwaine, and her small hand found his own. The one that wasn't currently resting on his sword hilt.

"I know merely by my healer's intuition," she said quietly. "But I do know this. They are dangerous wounds. Though they have healed over, they may yet kill him." Gwaine felt his breath catch, but he did his best to appear unruffled. No need to show the dragon he was any weaker than he could help.

"How did he come by such wounds?"

"Poison," Yara said smoothly. Gwaine wondered how she managed to lie with such a straight face. And why she was lying at all. "A poison in the form of words, corroding his will and self-preservation. They can be the most dangerous weapon of all, words. It's surprising how often that most obvious form of poison is overlooked."

"Of what words do you speak?"

"Remember that you promised to answer my questions as fully and succinctly as I answer yours," yara warned the dragon, her small hand tightening it's grip on his. The dragon snarled slightly, but nodded its great head.

"What words, and spoken by whom?"

"Words against sorcerers," Yara said. "Against magic, and, by default, Merlin himself. He's been in Camelot a long time to be listening to such propaganda." Gwaine was done wondering where Yara got such words as succinctly and propaganda. He hadn't the slightest idea of what they meant. "He may be a warlock, but Merlin is also human. Something that you tend to forget. There's only so much a man can take." Of course, this was coming from a girl not much older than ten winters. The dragon seemed affronted, but said nothing, allowing Yara to continue. "Merlin's physical wounds have healed, but the psychological wounds are still there." Gwaine was getting rather close to ask Yara to use words he understood, but he did not want the dragon to turn his yellow eyes in his direction. Yara was quiet for a while, before asking her first question.

"Do the prophecies give a specific timing for the time of Albion?" The dragon reared it's head back slightly.

"You ask questions difficult to answer," The dragon rumbled, "particularly around a Knight of Camelot."

"I trust this knight," Yara said. "Besides, he's a friend of the warlock's. Now answer the question, if you please." Her tone of voice did not make it a request.

"Albion will come as Emrys and the Once and Future King make it."

"So it has no specific time frame?" The dragon shook its head.

"The prophecies are not as straightforward so as to be translated in a way easy to understand." He rumbled, shifting slightly, unfolding his wings with a whoosh before folding them back again. Gwaine couldn't help but take this action as one of uncertainly. "Do you have another question, Enchantress?"

"The prophecies. Are they what will happen, what you wish would happen, or one possibility?"

"They are the best possibility," the dragon said with a toss of it's great golden head. "The greatest hope for all magical creatures, and humankind."

"Why is humankind tied so closely together with the magical beings?" Yara asked.

"I asked you two questions; and I'm afraid you have used up my generosity with two of yours, particularly with the questions you have been asking," The dragon said, and Gwaine noticed Yara's face tighten with something very akin to anger.

"Kilgharrah . . ." the warning in her voice had Gwaine wondering at how she spoke (argued, really) so easily with the great beast. But the dragon spread it's great wings and leaped to the air, though not before saying "Take care of the warlock, Yara. If the wounds are as you say, he may need more help than is available otherwise."

Yara stared after the dragon for a few moments, then stamped her foot and whirled to face Gwaine directly. "I have issues, with that dragon," she said angrily.

"He didn't fry you," Gwaine noted dryly as the girl crossed her arms.

"He can't," she muttered, turning to look back at the Citadel. "I have that much of my grandfather's legacy in me."

"And your grandfather was . . .?"

"A dragonlord."

"A what?"

Yara sighed. "Dragonlords were warlocks who controlled dragons. Well . . . controlled is the wrong word. They could make the dragons do what they wanted, but it was more of a lord to a subject. Dragonlords didn't exercise their power unless they needed to. The true power was passed from father to son; there's only one true dragonlord left."

"Merlin," Gwaine breathed. Apparently his friend was even more powerful than he had thought. Then another thought came to him. "What's Albion?" Yara sighed.

"Kilgharrah's favorite prophecy. The one that says that the druid Emrys and the Once and Future king will unite all the nations under one banner. The banner of Albion; and in Albion, magic is free once more. The druids' paradise."

"Who is Emrys?"

"You know him as Merlin."

"But that would make Arthur . . . ."

"The once and future king," Yara said, nodding.

"Arthur Pendragon, the man meant to bring magic back into the world?" Gwaine asked incredulously.

"Tell me; when he saw what happened to Merlin, did Arthur look like he wouldn't do anything to make sure Merlin would be alright?"

"I wasn't there," Gwaine said quietly. "But when I did see him with Merlin . . . I can see what you mean." Yara nodded and yawned, still looking toward the Citadel. She took a step in that direction, but Gwaine grabbed her arm quickly.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I have to see Merlin," she said.

"Merlin will be fine, you said so yourself," Gwaine said, turning her around, crouching down to look up at her eyes. He grabbed her other arm to keep her in place. "Yara," he said, and he saw some sort of flicker in her blue eyes, before her eyes flickered off to the side. "Yara, I just got you out of that place. I'm not going to let you go running back in. I want you to live."

"You think what I do is a life?" she asked quietly.

"You could become a druid. They'd probably accept you, and Arthur has extended the hand of peace to them as long as they keep to themselves."

"I can't be told that I can't do something," Yara said quietly, still not quite looking at him. "It rankles me. And I can't leave a patient. That's part of a problem in being a magical healer; particularly when the patient is magical as well. I can't leave Merlin while he's still unwell."

"We'll take care of him," Gwaine said, and was surprised by the desperation in his own voice. Yara shook her head.

"I know," she muttered. "I know that, Gwaine. But I . . . I . . . I've already lost enough of my family. Don't make me give up the family I feel like I've found."

Gwaine was so surprised that his grip loosened, and suddenly he found two thin arms thrown around his neck and a small head buried into his shoulder. Uncertainly, he put his own arms around her back, feeling the texture of the bright red cloak under his fingers.

"I won't," he heard himself saying. "I won't leave you, Yara. I'm right here, I'll stay right here." She stayed there, holding onto him tightly as she nodded against him, her small fingers clutching at the mail on his back. His left hand began stroking her hair, the blond hair felt rough under his fingers, and Gwaine was abruptly reminded that she had spent the last couple of days on the run or in a dungeon. Not to mention why. "Yara . . ." he said, pulling back slightly, trying to see her face, "you can't stay here. People know you have magic. You'll be in danger."

"Is Arthur king, or is the Council?" Yara asked, an annoyed tone present in her voice. "If he knows about Merlin having magic, I think he'd be willing to think about some law reforms."

"Okay," Gwaine muttered, standing, "okay."

They walked back towards the Citadel, arriving in the lower town quicker than Gwaine would have thought from the thick trees around the clearing they had come out in. The people glanced oddly at the girl wearing the knights' cloak, but seemed to shrug it off once they noticed that Gwaine was said knight. As they got closer to the Citadel gates, Gwaine put his arm around the girl, hoping that his presence would shade her face enough to get her through the gates and to Gaius' rooms. He needn't have worried. The guards inclined their head slightly as he passed them, the sword scabbarded on his waist given more attention than the girl under his arm.

The two of them made odd figures going down the halls, the blond girl wearing a knight's cloak tugging Gwaine behind her, though the knight gave her directions. They met Lancelot as they turned the corner to the hallway where the door to Gaius' chambers were located.

"What . . . ?" The knight asked Gwaine as Yara let go of his hand to rush to the door that much faster.

"Long story short, a dragon told her to come back," Gwaine muttered, catching at Yara's hand as she made to open the door. "Is Arthur in there?"

Lancelot nodded. "I don't think he's planning on sleeping or eating until Merlin is better," he said, sounding exasperated.

"How is Merlin?" Gwaine asked, tugging yara back to his side. She tripped slightly over the hem of the cloak, that trailed across the ground behind her, and Gwaine steadied her against him.

"Still alive, but he hasn't woken up yet. Gaius says that he should wake up soon, but he's afraid that that much blood loss might have caused brain damage. It depends on how long it's been happening, and how quickly we found him." Lancelot rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. "I hope he'll be alright. I hope he and Arthur will be alright. But I'm not foolish enough to think they'll come out of this unscathed; either one of them."


	20. A Sorceress is a Sorceress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, I'm back! Sorry, the last few weeks were mostly getting back into school and all that, I went home for the weekend for some R&R, so I decided I may as well post a chapter.

Arthur POV

No more than his best. But he hadn't been doing his best, had he? There was no way he could have been, not if Merlin had felt it necessary to do what he'd done. But what was it? What was it that he needed to do? That he should have done so long ago; to stop this. Because this should never have happened. Never. Ever. But what was it? Arthur had the feeling that it should be achingly obvious. That it was right in front of him. But all he saw when he looked at Merlin was a pale boy (a boy who might as well be his younger brother) with the word MONSTER spelled out in scars on his arm by his own hand. Oh gods . . . his own hand. What had Merlin been thinking?! Didn't he know he could come to Arthur with anything? Well . . . with something important enough to elicit this kind of reaction. The king of Camelot let his head fall to the edge of the cot. He was exhausted. Emotionally drained. He probably looked a wreck. Not that he particularly cared at this point.

Arthur was jolted from his musings as the door opened behind him. He turned to see Gwaine standing with his hand on the shoulder of a girl with a red cape of Camelot draped over thin shoulders. Wait . . . "What is the sorceress doing here?" His voice was low, but the exhaustion that was all-to present ruined the effect slightly.

"I'm an enchantress," the girl muttered sullenly.

"And you're supposed to be locked in a magic-proofed cell."

"She's a child, Arthur," Gwaine said, stepping forward. The knight was protecting the sorceress? Arthur felt something like betrayal rush through him, but it was both dulled and slowed by the tiredness pulling at his eyelids. Arthur heard the door close, and looked up to see that Lancelot, who had left barely a minute earlier, leaning against the old wood.

"A sorceress is a sorceress, Gwaine. Be glad it is not the pyre." Sure, Arthur wished that he could simply banish the girl; no more reports of sickness had come from the villages in the area that the girl had been living. The missing game though; that was odd. And . . . there was that law.

"Glad? Whose decision was it Arthur? Yours, or the council's?" Arthur stayed silent. It was, after all, a valid question now he came to think of it. He had fought the council not to put the girl on the pyre; had thought he'd scored a victory when they relented, even if it was only an inch. With a groan, he propped his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"You are the king, Arthur," Lancelot said quietly. "The punishment for breaking a law may be, itself, part of the law, but you are in the position to change the law."

"My father set those laws in place for a reason, Lancelot," Arthur said, but he didn't move from where he was sitting. "Of course, if a sorcerer were to escape, we can only chase them to Camelot's border; not even that far if we lose the trail."

"That's what I tried to tell her," Gwaine said, "but she said she had to stay until Merlin gets better. Part of being a magical healer." The exasperation heavy in the knight's voice was offset slightly by a fondness he didn't seem to realize was there. Arthur looked closer at the knight and sorceress, noting the protective gesture of Gwaine's hand on her shoulder, not to mention the red cape draped over her shoulders, and the girl's relaxed posture; she apparently felt safe with the knight. And oh, the last thing Arthur needed right now was a knight feeling protective over a sorceress. He focused his gaze on the girl.

"You told me," he said quietly. "You told me to find Merlin. You knew. How did you know?" The girl shrugged slightly.

"I'm a healer. I could . . . feel it?" The last words were said almost as a question, and Arthur could feel the girl searching his face to see if he believed it. He did not. Not fully, anyway. There was something the girl was withholding. And the King of Camelot was too tired for this right now.

"You could feel it." he said with some doubt.

"I . . . it's complicated."

"Why would you feel something happen to Merlin? You've barely . . . seen . . . him . . . ." Arthur spoke haltingly as an idea came to him. He groaned. "You didn't escape the dungeons on your own that first time, did you?"

"Ye-no," the girl said, changing her answer halfway through as Arthur's hard stare turned on her. Someone knocked on the door, and they fell silent. Gwaine shifted his position so that he was between the door and the girl, so as to shield her from whoever it was. But it was Gwen that Lancelot opened to door for, and Gwaine relaxed, the sorceress peeking around his back to see the young woman. The door closed behind her with a click.

"How is he?" She asked, and then, when she caught sight of the girl, "and why is she not miles from here?" she frowned at Gwaine.

"It's not my fault!" the Knight defended himself. "She's the one who decided to come back to make sure Merlin was alright."

"Oh my dear, we'll take good care of Merlin," Gwen said as she moved over to the cot. Arthur felt a headache coming on.

"Am I the only one here who remembers the laws against magic?"

"No," Gwaine said, "you're just the only one who cares." Gwen tutted.

"Be nice, Gwaine. Well Yara, now that you're here, is there anything you can do?"

The girl hesitated, looking at Arthur, and it took him a moment to realize that this was because she was waiting for his permission. Well . . . his father was not here to witness this and this girl could help Merlin. Arthur had a lot of things he needed to talk to Merlin about right now. He needed Merlin to know that no matter what, he was never to frighten the King of Camelot like this again. Never again. Please gods, never again. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Arthur nodded at the girl.

"I can wake him up," Yara said. "But I need you all to be aware. Merlin meant to die. He probably won't be happy about being alive. I need you all to be ready for this." The two knights in the room came closer along with the sorceress, who put her small, slim hands on either side of Merlin's face. Arthur had to clench his hands


	21. A Cracked Smile

Merlin POV

The first thing he saw once his eyes adjusted to the light was Arthur's worried face. The next was Yara. He blinked, mind searching for a good reason that the two would be in the same room, almost right next to each other without one of them being dead. Or him.

"I'm dead," Merlin said with a certainty. His voice hurt, rasping against his dry throat. "I must be dead, I think I died and went to . . . to . . . to some place where magic isn't outlawed." That was as far as he got before Arthur lunged at him. He let out a squeak as Arthur's arms encircled his chest. He was so surprised, he almost didn't hear what Arthur was saying frantically into his ear.

"Never again, Merlin. Don't do that ever again. I couldn't take it. Never again," he repeated the words, and Merlin awkwardly patted his friend's back. There was something comforting though, in being held like this. Like he mattered. Like someone cared. Almost as if Arthur had heard his thoughts, the older man pulled back, holding Merlin at arm's length to search his face with his sky-blue eyes. "Why?" he asked, and Merlin thought vaguely that today must hold some kind of record for making Arthur act weird. "Why did you do it Merlin?" tears fell slowly down Arthur's face, and his voice broke at the end of his question. Wait . . . tears? Arthur was crying!? Then the question itself registered in Merlin's over-active brain.

Shrinking back, Merlin shook his head vigorously. He couldn't tell Arthur. He couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't! Arthur would hate him forever. Arthur would kill him. Merlin knew he couldn't stand that; he wouldn't mind dying, but he would sooner do just about anything than have Arthur hate him. The worry visible on Arthur's face skyrocketed. Gwen put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, tugging him gently back as another face near-filled Merlin's vision. Yara.

He wanted to ask why she was here, why she wasn't gone, away from Camelot, if she had somehow escaped the dungeons again. But his mouth was dry as a reed, as if he'd eaten sand. Her small hand felt at his forehead and his neck, blessedly cool against skin he hadn't noticed was sweating. "I think he's ready," she murmured, so quietly that Merlin barely heard her, despite the fact that her mouth couldn't have been four inches from his ear as she lowered him so that he was laying on his back again. Wordlessly, because he didn't trust himself to speak, Merlin shook his head. Yara sighed.

"Now's the best time of any," she said quietly. "I'm not usually this frank, but Arthur would do anything in this moment to keep you safe no matter what." Merlin doubted this. Arthur had never done anything to help him before; why should this have changed in the amount of time he'd been unconscious? Well, you seem to have almost bled to death, came a voice, unbidden, from the back of his mind. But really, why would a servant's almost-death change a Pendragon's perspective on things like magic? "He's gonna find out eventually, whether you tell him or not," Yara said quietly. "Actually, I feel like he might already suspect." She had a damp cloth and was wiping the sweat from his face. She motioned for something, taking a cup from someone just out of Merlin's line of sight. "Gwaine certainly found out quickly after seeing your little pattern." Pattern? What pattern? Merlin couldn't really remember any method to the attempted suicide. He couldn't remember much about it at all, actually.

Gwaine's face was suddenly next to Yara's, taking the cloth from her as she helped him drink. The water felt wonderful sliding down his, for some reason, sore throat. Suddenly, the first part of that last sentence Yara had spoken came to him. Gwaine knew!? Gwaine knew what!?

"Hey, mate, don't worry," the knight said, pressing the cloth to Merlin's forehead, above his suddenly terrified eyes. "It doesn't make that much of a difference to me. Just wish you'd of told me rather than . . . well, this." Gwaine gestured to Merlin's left arm, and, with shaking fingers, Merlin tugged his sleeve up to expose the fresh scars. The word MONSTER was etched in a shaky hand into the pale skin. Merlin supposed it was fitting. Then Lancelot joined the others in crouching next to the patient cot.

"You knew you could have come to me," he said quietly as Yara took the cloth back from Gwaine, dropping it back into a bowl of water and wringing it out. The splashing water permeated the silence following Lancelot's whispered plea. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"There was no reason to burden you with my problems," Merlin said, just as quietly, because Arthur was still in the room, speaking with Gwen near the door. The tired slump of the king's shoulders told Merlin that the man had not slept for at least two days. Or, at least not well.

"If it was reason enough to do this, it was reason enough to talk with me," Lancelot said. Merlin looked away. He hated disappointing people; but all the same, that seemed to be what he did on a daily basis.

"We're not blaming you Emrys," Yara said quietly, sponging Merlin's brow again. "We're simply telling you that we're here." The girl's eyes flashed gold for a moment, and Merlin felt some of the heat inside his body dissipate. "Your fever is getting worse. I'll wait until the physician gets back, I think, before I try anything more."

"I'll go find him. I think he's in the library," Lancelot said, stepping away from the cot. Merlin watched the noble knight lay a hand on Arthur's shoulder, speaking to him quietly so that Merlin could not hear, before leaving. The door shut heavily behind him. Yara sighed, looking after Lancelot.

"I know you don't think Arthur's ready, but I think that perhaps you're not sure you're ready. I'll tell you this now; in both cases, you wildly underestimate the human ability to adapt to unfamiliar circumstances."

"At the same time," Gwaine mused quietly, peering down at Merlin, "Just between you and me, the council has too much sway over Arthur at the moment for my liking."

Merlin cracked a reluctant smile.


	22. Only Bad Authority

Arthur POV

When Gaius came back, the physician had sent Arthur away to get some sleep. Arthur hadn't wanted to leave, not when Merlin was finally awake, but Gaius had done that eyebrow thing, and sent Gwaine out with him, leaving the sorceress and Gwen alone with Gaius. The old man claimed to need their help to combat Merlin's rapidly rising fever. As Gwaine turned to leave towards the training grounds, Arthur cleared his throat.

"I would like to have a word with you, Gwaine," he said, and the knight turned. Arthur took tired note of the guarded look on his knight's face before turning and leading the way to his chambers.

The knight was silent the entire way, something unusual for the talkative man, and Arthur had the distinct feeling that he knew exactly what it was that Arthur planned to ask him. Which only made Arthur more uncertain of the answer. At first he was damn sure that it would be 'no'. Now though . . . .

While he had been sitting there, waiting for Merlin to wake up and trying to feel useful by keeping his brother's face cool (Arthur had decided that there was no way in hell he'd ever call Merlin 'just a servant' again, not after this; after this, even friend didn't quite cut it.), his mind had had a lot of time to wander.

It had wandered over everything that had happened recently. The capture of Yara, her escape and subsequent re-capture, the council meeting, the . . . well, really that was about it. There had been no executions for at least a month, Arthur had always found them to be distasteful; he wished the council didn't seem to think that it was a necessity for a king to kill to be considered strong. The only member of the council that he felt he could even trust not to be aiming for their own ends was Geoffrey. The old librarian had been his tutor, and besides that, Arthur found that the man loved books more than anyone could ever love power. He was one of the quieter council members. His mind had been drawn continuously to the council meeting.

All of the comments had condemned magic and those who used it. One in particular stood out in Arthur's mind. It was a comment spoken imploringly by Lord Parson. 'I implore you, my king, kill this monster before she joins Morgana and threatens Camelot.' Kill this monster. Monster. That word, etched into Merlin's pale arm with a knife. Two and two made four. Still, due to other logical things running through Arthur's head, they could make five. They had to make five. Because Merlin couldn't be a sorcerer. He wondered, as he opened his heavy chamber doors, whether he could create a new number system, where two and two made five. Or three. Or twelve. Anything but four.

He sat heavily in the chair situated behind his desk, motioning for Gwaine to close the door. The knight did so, then pulled one of the chairs that had stood around the table around so he could sit in it. Arthur felt a sudden rush of warmth towards the knight, who felt no need to stand on propriety. It felt much more natural to ask his advice than it would have to ask . . . say . . . Sir Leon. Not that Leon wouldn't give more advice, but Arthur was a little more aware of the distance between him and the knights with him. Gwaine . . . well, he could be sure that Gwaine would tell him exactly what he thought without trying to make him feel like he was in the right no matter what, as Lancelot sometimes had the habit of doing. And then there was the little fact that Gwaine had a better chance of knowing the answer to his first question than any of the others. It would certainly explain his protectiveness of the young sorceress.

"So, Princess, what is it you want ta talk to me about?" Gwaine asked in a terribly lacking imitation of his usual bravado.

"I need you to answer a question," Arthur said slowly, watching the knights face closely for anything that might give him his answer. "And I need you to be honest." Gwaine was watching him silently. He gave a slight nod of ascension, and Arthur took note of the worried crease that made itself clear for a second on the knight's brow before the man's forehead smoothed. "Does . . . Does Merlin . . ." Oh gods, why was this so hard to ask!? "Does Merlin have magic?"

Gwaine's eyes widened marginally, and his hands fisted in his brown leather gloves, leather squeaking softly with the strain. And Arthur had his answer. With a groan, he buried his head in his hands. Taking a few deep breaths, he looked up again. Gwaine seemed calmer now, but his voice was hoarse when he spoke.

"How long have you known?"

"I didn't. Not until now. I suspected . . . I don't know. It was something said at the council meeting after Yara escaped. One of the lords called magic-users monsters."

"Do you agree with him?"

"Not any more."

"Good." There was a fierceness in Gwaine's tone that told Arthur exactly what his position on the whole thing was.

"What am I supposed to do?" Arthur asked. It was more of a rhetorical question, but Gwaine answered anyway.

"According to the law, you're supposed to kill him. According to morality, you're supposed to change the law." Arthur stared at Gwaine, mouth dropping open. "I mean," the knight went on, leaning an elbow on the chair's arms so that he gave the appearance of slouching without actually doing so. "Once you change the law, it becomes the law, so really, that way, you're obeying a working moral compass and the law."

"You make a good argument, Sir Knight," Arthur muttered, leaning back in his chair in a most un-king-like manner. "The problem is how the council and the people would react."

"I lived among the common folk, as a commoner, for a very long time," Gwaine said. "And trust me when I say that they would stand behind you one hundred percent. I think most of them knew someone who was killed or forced to flee during the Purges. Plus, you're their king. Your word is law. As for the council," a grimace passed over the knight's rugged face. "They can suck it. You know, you've talked, before, about disbanding the Lords' council and making 'The Knights of the Round Table' and thing. You should do it. I feel like the knights are more likely not to be following a personal vendetta, and then, it's not just one group of people you'll be listening to. It's not just knights at the table. I mean . . ." here Gwaine let out a quiet laugh that seemed a little out of place. "Merlin was at the first meeting, wasn't he?"

"So I should destroy my father's legacy?"

"Well, yeah," Gwaine said. Arthur felt taken aback. He hadn't been expecting that answer. "What I mean is," the knight said hurriedly, "you'd be taking down a law he'd been hated for. If anything, you're leaving more room for his good deeds to be recognized." Arthur knew Gwaine well enough to know that Gwaine wasn't sure that Uther had had any redeeming qualities, but still, it made some kind of sense.

"So I change the law then," Arthur murmured. "I'll have to ask Geoffrey for the original transcript of the barbaric thing."

"You look like you've been thinking this over for a while," Gwaine said.

"You tend to lead towards abolishing something that gave you a queasy stomach and lost appetites as a kid," Arthur grimaced. "Pyres had a habit of doing worse."

"I . . . can see that." Gwaine shifted in the seat.

"Is there something else?"

"More than one," Gwaine muttered. "Firstly . . . you know why he didn't tell you, right?" Arthur looked at the knight in surprise. Had that even been in question?

"I'd have done the same, I think," was all he said. It seemed to satisfy Gwaine, who asked the next question in a rush.

"What are the laws on adoption in Camelot?"

"Adoption?"

"I . . . Yara doesn't have a family, and I know I'm not the best role model, but she needs someone to look after her and-" Arthur cut him off.

"If she wants you to be her lawful father, as far as I'm concerned, fine. Besides, I think she'll be a good influence on you. Though you both seem to have an utter lack of any respect for authority," he added as an afterthought.

Gwaine smirked. "Only bad authority, Princess."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, anyone see the 1984 reference?


	23. A Dysfunctional Family

YaraPOV

Merlin's fever had just been brought back under control when Gwaine burst through the door. The old physician had raised an eyebrow at the knight, and Gwen straitened from where she'd been spooning thin broth into Merlin's mouth, despite the warlocks assurances that he was more than capable of feeding himself. He probably couldn't, not with the way his hands were shaking at his side, but Gwen patiently let the young man complain in between spoonfuls.

"What is it?" Yara asked, taking in the odd expression on the knight's face. He seemed caught somewhere between ecstasy and nerves.

"Arthur knows," he burst out. Yara felt her heart stutter at the knews. But whether in fear or hope, she wasn't sure.

"And?"

"He's gonna change it!"

Yara grinned, hugging the man tightly, laughing happily. "No more running?" she asked, wonderingly. Gwaine hugged her back, and she knew that there was a beaming smile on his modestly bearded face.

"No more running," he confirmed.

"Does someone want to explain the sudden levity to me?" The old physician asked, an eyebrow raising in a bemused manner. Yara wondered how many different emotions those eyebrows could be counted upon to convey.

"The law's gonna be changed," Gwaine said, sending the physician a toothy smile. "That stupid law stating that magic is evil, and the punishing of magic-users."

Gaius sat down heavily on the wooden bench behind him, looking like he couldn't believe it. "What . . . what brought this on?"

"Merlin," Gwaine said.

"What about Merlin?" The woman, Gwen, who had helped to bring Merlin's fever down, asked from behind her. "What's this about Arthur changing the laws against magic?"

Yara turned; Gwen's face looked hopeful. Yara wondered if the woman had known about Merlin's secret. And whether she (or the king) knew anything about Emrys.

"Merlin's a sorcerer, apparently," Gwaine said, letting go of Yara. She stayed close to him, happy in the feeling of security he offered. She had placed his red Camelot cloak on one of the empty places on the large table that dominated the room, but somehow the weight and heat had stayed with her. "Which is pretty irrefutable proof that magic itself is not evil. Arthur agrees." Gwen's smile was radiant.

"That's good," she said. "That's . . . I'm . . . Merlin will be so happy!"

"You knew?" Gwaine asked incredulously.

"I was Merlin's first friend in Camelot. He didn't tell me, but it didn't take me too overly long to figure out that he was the only reason Arthur came back from all those fool quests alive." There was a note of fond exasperation in her voice. "And anyone would have to be magical to manage that." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "It was just a joke, at first. Then I started noticing things. The way he looked whenever a sorcerer was sentenced to death. As if he grieved for the man, or woman, he didn't, couldn't, know. The way he and Arthur miraculously escaped injury in even the fiercest of battles." She looked at Gaius. "I didn't want to frighten him; that's why I never said anything." The old man smiled.

"Well, then it's good that Merlin has such friends to help him through this."

"Help me through what?" Merlin's tired voice had Yara jumping to his bedside. Her magic tingled as she lay a hand on his forehead. The fever had broken, thank the gods. That had to be one of the fastest broken fevers ever. She supposed that her healing spells must have also sped up the physician's herbs. Or Merlin's magic had helped him this time. Or both.

"Life," she muttered, "has a habit of throwing things at us we don't think we're ready to face yet, just to show us how ready we actually are." Merlin looked up at her quizzically. To tell him, or not to tell him? That was the question. She supposed that it would be best if he found out now. Plus . . . doing something fast hurt less in the long run. She hoped. "Arthur's changing the laws on magic." Merlin's mouth dropped open. "Actually," Yara continued, watching Merlin's face anxiously, "I guess I should say he's scrapping the laws against magic."

" . . . That's not funny."

"It's the truth," Gwaine said, coming closer to the bed so as to be in Merlin's line of sight.

"And why would he do that?"

"Because he's a good man," Gwaine responded simply. "He asked my opinion. Arthur asked me what to do about magic. I was just as surprised as anyone." The man stopped, expression considering. "Actually . . . he asked me if you actually had magic first. I didn't say anything," he added quickly as a panicked expression came over Merlin's face. Without thinking much about it, Yara moved her hands to the young man's temples, sending a gentle calming suggestion to him.

"Arthur knows anyway, doesn't he?" Merlin asked, eyes closed.

"About you having magic?" came a voice from the doorway. Yara whirled around, blond hair tossed over her shoulder by the sudden movement. The king walked forward slowly, with a small smile on his face. "Yes, I do. I should have guessed, really. How else would I have been able to survive the last couple of years?"

Merlin sat up quickly, but the calming suggestion was still in his mind, keeping him from bolting. "I . . . I know I should have told you . . . I'm sorry, Arthur, I-"

The king held up a hand, cutting off Merlin's stuttering explanation.

"I understand." Those words shocked Yara. She had been pretty sure the king was ready for the truth of magic; but she'd thought that he might be at least a little . . . ah . . . put-out about his best friend lying to him. "At least now I know that you actually do have a self-preservation instinct, even if you, a magic-wielder, did come to Camelot for no good reason."

"Destiny happens whether it's good sense or not," Merlin said hoarsely. His blue eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.

Quickly, Yara ducked back, tucking herself under Sir Gwaine's arm. He hugged her tightly to his side, then leaned down and whispered, "What would you say to a new father?" Yara felt her jaw drop.

"Um . . . yes?" Gwaine . . . her father (soon, at least), chuckled.

"Good, 'cause after all this, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Arthur was sitting on the small bed, and he was hugging Merlin tightly. Yara watched with a kind of detached fascination. "You're my little brother, Merlin. Don't ever let me lose you, okay? Don't make me lose all that's left of my family." Merlin nodded. Then he grinned.

"We really all just a big, dysfunctional family, aren't we?" Tears of joy had left tracks on his still-paler-than-normal face, and his smile was radiant enough to put the sun to shame. One big family indeed.


	24. Magic and Pride and Being Tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have absolutely no reason as to how long this took. I . . . um . . . yeah. Sorry.

Arthur POV

The shoulder of Arthur's tunic was damp, but he really couldn't care less. Merlin was shaking under his hands, and when the young man pulled back, his smile caused a smile to bloom across his own face.

"I'm a mess," Merlin croaked, dragging the back of one hand across his eyes. His sleeve wasn't quite long enough to hide the scars, and Arthur had to make sure not to flinch at the red lines that stood out so starkly against marble-white skin.

"You're alive," Arthur said fervently. "I don't care much about anything else." Merlin bit his lower lip, looking suddenly uncertain.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I didn't mean to let it get so out of hand, it just kind of . . . I couldn't stop." Tears welled in Merlin's eyes again, but these were not brought on by joy or surprise.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," Arthur murmured, gently pulling Merlin back to him so that his face was against Arthur's chest. He ran his fingers through Merlin's hair. Gwen had washed the flecks of blood out of it, and the strands were still slightly damp. "It's alright." One of Merlin's hands fisted in Arthur's tunic as he tried to get himself under control.

Arthur simply sat there, stroking Merlin's hair, trying to show Merlin that he was there for him. He was vaguely aware of Gwen behind him, a hand on his shoulder, and Gwaine and Yara standing somewhere to his right. Yara was tucked under the knight's arm, close to his side with a small smile on her thin face. Arthur was glad, for some reason, that the girl was staying. Gwaine would make a good father, he supposed. Or . . . Yara would make a good daughter. He felt a smile slip back onto his face.

"'m tired," Merlin said against Arthur's chest.

"Then go to sleep," Arthur said quietly, smoothing the dark hair from Merlin's forehead as he leaned forward to lay the younger man back down. Merlin smiled sleepily back up at Arthur.

"Thank you, Arthur," he said as his eyes slipped closed.

"Thank you, Merlin." Arthur got up from the thin mattress as the raven-haired man's breathing evened out.

Gwen hugged him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder to say "I'm so proud of you, darling."

He turned in her arms so that he could touch her little nose softly with his own. "I'm guessing you already knew?" He endeavored to make sure his voice was level, and quiet, enough that she didn't think he would harbor any anger towards her.

"How could I not? I was his first friend," Gwen said with a small smile. Arthur kissed her gently before turning towards Gwaine and Yara.

"Yara should probably stay here until the law's been taken care of," he said apologetically. "Stuff like this can't happen right away, there's a bunch of things that need to be changed."

"The council?"

Arthur scowled. Those old men in their fancy coats and all their old-fashioned ways of thinking were what had caused . . . pain. "Is being replaced with the round table." Gwaine grinned. "That shouldn't take too long," Arthur continued. "All the knights are technically nobles; yes, Gwaine, even you, so it's really just getting rid of the current council."

"Just tell them that they're being retired to spend more time with their families," Yara said with a small smile that spoke of some kind of joke that went somewhere to Arthur's left.

"I can just tell them that their services are no longer required," Arthur said. Gwen's arm snaked around his waist, tugging him with her as she took a few steps toward the door.

"You need sleep before you face them," she murmured.

"This can't wait," he argued. It had been going on so long, this apparently unjust persecution of a large group of innocent people.

"It will wait longer if you are not rested well enough," Gaius said from where he still sat on the bench. "As your physician, I am ordering you to get some bedrest. You will need it to face the council tomorrow, and go through all of those laws."

"There's the backlash of the thing as well," Lancelot said from where he was leaned against the wall. "Not all of the people will accept this without a fight. It's hard to accept the thought that you have been party to the killing of innocents. Much easier to pretend nothing has changed."

"You all need to get some sleep, you too Lancelot and Gwaine. Yara can stay here for the time being, Sir Gwaine. Talk to Geoffery about adopting her. I'm sure he knows how it can be done properly-" The rest of Gaius' instructions were cut off as the door closed behind he and Gwen.

The young woman immediately began peppering his face with feather-light kisses; on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his mouth, his neck.

"Guinevere . . ." he moaned.

"I'm so proud of you," she said, beaming up at him with her doe eyes. "So very, very proud of you. I know what rescinding these laws means to you."

"Small words my love," Arthur muttered, closing his eyes for a second. "I'm terribly tired."

She giggled. "Thank you," she said quietly, embracing him. Then she was tugging him down the corridor again. "You need sleep. Physician's orders." It was all Arthur could do not to fall on his face as they made their way to his chambers.

Arthur changed behind the screen, and was surprised to find Gwen turning down his covers when he finished. Pleasantly surprised. He clambered in a very non-king-like way onto the mattress. He watched Gwen as much as he could as she tucked him in, then turned to go. Oh, that would not do at all. His hand shot out to catch her wrist. She looked surprised, but came back over to the bed.

"Stay with me?" he asked. "I don't want to wake up and be afraid that this is all a dream."

A delicate pink bloomed on Gwen's dark cheeks. "Arthur . . . we're not married."

He grunted in annoyance. "I'll have to remedy that soon." Gwen's mouth dropped open in shock. "Oh, don't tell me you weren't expecting it," he muttered sleepily. Oh gods, he was exhausted. "Just . . . please?" He held the covers off the mattress with his left hand, and she hesitated for a moment before accepting the invitation. He pulled her close to him, and was surprised by her warmth. It was better than being in a warm bath. Then he was asleep.


	25. Lords and Magic and the People

Arthur POV

Waking up with Gwen in his arms was an amazing feeling. Arthur lay in his bed for a while, letting himself bask in her warmth. He could stay here all day. The curtains had never been closed, and the light from the rising sun lit the flyaways in Gwen's hair like a halo around her head. But he had things to do. Important things. He kissed her smooth cheek gently, and wriggled out of the blankets so as not to wake her.

He tugged on a red tunic made of a finer weave than his usual clothes, and black pants. He knew that he should at least attempt to look nice to meet with the council; even if he rather hated most of them.

"You're not thinking of going without me?" Gwen's tired voice drifted to his ears from the bed. He turned, buckling his belt, to look at her.

"Um . . ." Usually that was Merlin's word, but sleep still clung to Arthur with a vengeance.

"I'll get you breakfast," Gwen said, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head. She cut off his protests with a short kiss, before walking out of the room, smoothing her wrinkled dress down with her hands as she went. Arthur let himself fall backwards onto the bed, staring up at the red canopy.

Today was going to be insane. He needed to legalize magic, and he needed to do it today. To be honest, he needed to do it yesterday. Gwaine thought that the people would be happy about it, but Lancelot had said, very sensibly, that not everyone would be accepting of the facts as Arthur now saw them.

Gwen entered the room along with a very appetizing smell of bacon and toast, something that had Arthur up and at the table in a moment. It had been a very long time since he'd eaten a real meal, and the smells were like a splash of cold water for waking him up. He pushed some of the food towards Gwen, who took it gratefully. They ate in comfortable silence, each thinking of the long day ahead.

Gwen accompanied him to the council meeting, and he had her sit to his right. She looked surprised, but Arthur kissed her gently and said "You'll be Queen soon enough; why not start now?" In reality, he just didn't want to do this alone.

The lords filed in in twos and threes, Lord Parsons and Lord Brien scowling openly at Gwen. Arthur felt a brief stab of protectiveness, but Gwen's cool stare caused the men to turn away quickly. Once all of the pretentious men had taken their seats, all with expectant looks on their bearded faces, Arthur stood, placing his fists on the table top and leaning upon them.

"Good morning, my good Lords," he began, and something in his voice must have made them nervous, for a few of them shifted uncomfortably in their overly-padded chairs. "I have called you here today to let you know that your services will no longer be required." The Lords were silent in shock, staring at him with mouths hanging open. Arthur felt a side of his mouth quirk up despite all his best efforts. This was beginning to be a little bit entertaining. He'd been waiting for a while to be able to put these old men in their places. Or, rather, out of their places.

"No longer required?" Lord Parsons said, voice sounding strangled.

"That's right. This council is being disbanded. I have decided to put the idea of the Round Table into action." The Lords knew about his thoughts of the Round Table; they had always come up with what seemed like good reasons not to implement it. Arthur wondered how he hadn't known that they were really just protecting their own interests.

As they had before, the Lords let loose a torrent of denials, proclaiming their usefulness and their loyalty to the crown of Camelot and to her king. Arthur almost laughed at their panic. But he didn't. Instead, he spoke quietly, and the Lords all went silent to hear him. "My decision is final," he stated with a cold finality that had a few of the men shrinking further back into their seats. "The Round Table will be created, and you are all free to spend the rest of your life with your family at your estates." Arthur sat down slowly, ready to spring up if protests were voiced once again, but he needn't have worried. "You are dismissed." The Lords all filed out, some quickly, others slowly, and still others sulking like little children who had been sent to bed with no dessert. As the door closed behind the last one, Gwen put her slender hand on his arm.

A shiver rushed through him at her warm touch. "I'm worried that you may get a big head if I keep telling you how proud I am of the man you've become," she said playfully. He grinned at her.

"I might, at that. Shall we go speak with Geoffrey about getting rid of those pesky laws against magic?"

Gwen took his hand as they rose, and Arthur was captivated by her excited expression. "I can't wait," she said quietly.

The library was, as always, rather dark and dusty. The old Librarian looked up as the king walked in, eyebrows raised. "I heard that you dissembled to Lords' Council," he said. "I did not get the summons, it seems."

"I planned on speaking with the more rational members of that body later, to ask them if they would be willing to be a part of the Round Table," Arthur murmured, running a calloused finger along the leather book spines. "I suppose your answer would be yes?"

"You . . . would have . . . supposed correctly, your majesty," the man said, shuffling from behind his table. "What is it you are looking for?"

Arthur felt Gwen squeeze his arm, as if to give him strength. He didn't need it, but he was grateful for it. Geoffrey had been his tutor when he was younger, had taught him all the propaganda his father had come up with. All the same, Arthur had always had the feeling that he agreed with it about as much as Gaius. Which was to say, enough belief to save their lives, and with enough scepticism to save their humanity.

"The laws regarding the usage of magic," he said, looking the man directly in his pale eyes. "I wish to abolish the unfair stipulations against magic."

Geoffrey's fluffy white eyebrows rose in surprise, before a rare smile touched his mouth. "If I may, my Lord, it took long enough."

Arthur couldn't help but laugh.

It took only a moment for the librarian to find a pile of old-looking parchment covered in some dust. Arthur recognized his father's signature on the bottom page when he looked, but the writing must have been done by a scribe.

Arthur ran his right hand up through the thick pages, letting them flop from his fingers to the table. He gave a low whistle. "That's a lot of words for one law."

"It covers many contingencies, my Lord," Geoffrey said. "The first two pages are the more . . . applicable parts of the law."

Arthur skimmed the first two pages, which gave a synopsis of the why of the whole thing. The language was flowery and so stilted that Arthur sometimes found himself wincing at words such as 'murder' and 'monster' and 'evil' and 'purge'. Gwen took the first page when he had finished it, eyes jumping from line to line, the librarian looking over her shoulder.

The second page contained more of the actual law, that magic was hereby declared an act against the crown of Camelot, and that it would be considered the highest act of treason capable in the nation. "Can't we just scrap all of this?" Arthur asked. "This is a lot of stuff to re-write, and honestly, I don't think I could stand to read all this damn stuff even one more time."

"We can . . ." Geoffrey said slowly. "Though you can also declare the law void as soon as this afternoon, in which case, it wouldn't even need to be re-written. Simply made void."

Both Arthur and Gwen looked open-mouthed at the old man. "I . . . was not taught of that particular loop-hole in my lessons," Arthur said, surprised.

"Because the Council did not like it," was all the librarian said in response. "It's perfectly fine and perfectly, bindingly, legal. The reason laws were rewritten was usually because the person rewriting the law wanted the original law to never be found again. In this case, I think, it sets a good precedence of the fact that this is wrong and Does. Not. Work."

Arthur supposed that made sense. He turned to the beautiful woman at his side. "Gwen, do you think you could organize a speech for later today?"

"Of course," she said with a gentle smile. "I'm guessing you want to check in on Merlin?"

"You know me so well," he said fondly, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of her soft nose.

ARTHUR POV

Arthur pushed the door to the healing chambers open with more than a little trepidation. He knew it was silly, Yara had not left the room for close to two days now, but he couldn't help himself. Maybe this was what it was to worry about a little brother.

Merlin was awake, out of the bed for the first time for what felt (to Arthur) like months. It was really only days. The boy's face was still pale, but he smiled at Arthur with all his old energy. Yara was sitting next to him, a small flame in her hand, which she smothered as he came into the room.

"I thought you couldn't do battle magic," Arthur said, hoping his tone was conversational, rather than confrontational.

"I can't make a flame much larger than that, and it takes a lot of energy," she said. "And it could be part of healing. Sterilization is very important in the field of healing. It would do no good to stitch up a wound just to have the patient die of blood poisoning later."

Arthur supposed that made sense. Yara excused herself, going over to the far corner, where there was a pitcher full of water and began to scrub her pale hands, which were covered in soot.

"I'm voiding the law in a couple hours," Arthur said. He made a wry face. "I'm gonna have to improv the whole speech." Merlin snorted.

"You really are hopeless without me," he said fondly.

Arthur couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. Merlin was going to love this. "I hope not. I mean . . . I'll need to be able to get along with another servant once my current one becomes Court Sorcerer."

Merlin's mouth slackened. He stared at Arthur for so long, the king began to get uncomfortable.

"You're kidding."

"Nope," he said, and the joy that lit Merlin's face almost made Arthur totally forget about what had caused all of this. Almost. But he couldn't really ask too much, that particular thing had occupied the front of his mind for what felt like a long time.

Merlin threw his arms around Arthur with a laugh, and Arthur gripped Merlin to him almost as fiercely. There was something about this whole thing that made Merlin so much younger than he really was. So much more vulnerable. Merlin pulled back with a smile still planted firmly on his thin face.

"You won't have to do without me completely now will you?" Merlin asked. "I'll still be available to write speeches." Arthur smiled. Not everything was going to change.

"Has Sir Gwaine dropped in at all today?" He directed this question towards the girl, who was now splashing the water at her face.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. He left just a couple minutes before you came in. He said Sir Leon had scheduled a training session and that he'd talk with the librarian afterwards."

Arthur was surprised at his surprise at the training session. What had he been expecting? Life didn't stop just because it should have, or seemed to. Merlin flashed the girl a smile.

"It's a good thing she's staying here, I'm lousy at healing magic," Merlin said to Arthur.

"Which is odd," Yara said, walking towards them with water dripping from the ends of her long pale hair. "Since you're supposed to be, like, omnipotent."

Merlin sighed. "I am not all-knowing or all-powerful," he said. It sounded like he said it a lot, which had a crease appearing between Arthur's eyebrows. "I may be Emrys, but I'm still just human."

"Wait, wait, hold up," Arthur said, holding his hands up in a gesture of complete bafflement. "Who is Emrys?"

"Emrys," Yara said slowly, still looking at Merlin rather than Arthur, "Is the Druid's savior. He was, is, the man prophesied to bring magic back to Camelot and help the Once-and-future king, that would be you, Arthur, create Albion." She stopped for a moment, as if considering something. "He's . . . also the most powerful Warlock to ever live."

Arthur felt like the air was knocked suddenly out of his lungs. He had known that Merlin must be unusual, even for a sorcerer (how else could he have survived so long in the very heart of Camelot?) but the most powerful one ever?

"Well," he managed to say at last. "I guess I would be pretty high-maintenance, huh?" Merlin laughed, a laugh that seemed to release all the tension in his skinny body, as he slumped forward to the table.

"You have no idea," he grinned.

Arthur POV

The speech went well. It was really all a blur for Arthur, who had almost never felt as nervous in his life. The sun had seemed oddly bright, white fluffy clouds in view only on the very distant horizon. There was a feeling of . . . entirety, as if all of nature was holding it's breath.

The people gathered in the courtyard were standing stock still, as if all of them, even the normally restless children, were holding their breaths. The crowd was an overwhelming combinations of colors, some of them bright enough to be for holidays. Arthur supposed some of them were already celebrating the reason they were in the closed-off area.

His armor had been polished by some of the servants, and he wore his red Knight's cape. Behind him stood Sir Percival, Sir Leon, Sir Lancelot, Sir Elyan, and Sir Gwaine, also in armour and capes. Gwaine's restless shifting was as close to silent and still the knight ever got. Arthur put his gloved hands on the balcony wall before him and took a deep breath..

"People of Camelot," he said, and his voice carried, echoing around the walled yard. "It has recently come to my attention that a large group of innocent people have been wrongly persecuted for as long as I have been alive." Actually, because of the circumstance of his birth, but Arthur didn't dwell on that. "Magic," he said, "can be used to heal far more easily, for some, than to hurt." There was a sudden flame of sound among the gathered people below. They saw where this was going. He remembered a parting instruction from Merlin regarding the speech.

"Don't talk about your father, Arthur. Don't even mention him. The people need to know that you make this with no reservations, and they should not be reminded of what Uther said to convince them that magic was evil." His friend had also asked that Arthur not tell the people that he had magic. He wanted to do that on his own, which Arthur understood.

"In light of this," he continued, "I have decided to repeal the laws against magic, or the use thereof. There shall, of course, continue to be punishments for wrongdoing, but these punishments shall not differ from magic-user to the common people." The courtyard had fallen dead silent at this announcement. The people stood as still as if they had been turned suddenly to stone. Arthur made a bow to his people. He didn't know what possessed him to do it, could almost feel his father turning in his grave, but it felt right.

"Long live the King!" called a voice from the crowd, and the rest of the people joined in, even the knights at Arthur's back. "Long live Arthur! Long live the King! Long live the King of Camelot!"


	26. Epilogue

The jubilation of the people pulled a feast-day from nowhere. Arthur couldn't help smiling as he walked among the laughing, dancing people and saw the colorful, harmless, sparks pinwheeling through the air as young children chased them, laughing. He saw one young woman with very pale skin, white hair, and eyes a pale shade of violet, healing a child's scraped knee with no more than a touch. She smiled at him as he passed, and he smiled back. He had thought that he would feel uncomfortable with such obvious magic all around him, but it just felt right. Perhaps it was due to the role magic had had in his birth, perhaps not.

On the second night of the celebrations, Merlin left the Citadel to walk the streets with Arthur, who kept a rapt eye on his friend. Merlin was so glaringly happy it made Arthur smile. A small girl ran up to Merlin, tugging on his tunic sleeves. He squatted down to her level, and she giggled. "Can you show me magic, Emrys?" A Druid girl, then. The Druids had been filtering slowly into the city, as if afraid the whole thing was a ruse. Merlin smiled, and his eyes glowed golden as a small dragon made of golden light appeared in his hands. "You didn't even need words," the girl said, awed. Merlin laughed.

"Not all the time," he agreed. The dragon flew off, and the girl chased after it. Merlin stood up, smiling after the girl as she leapt, trying to catch the being of light that darted between her hands.

"You're good with children," Arthur noted.

"If any of yours have magic, I'll teach them," Merlin muttered, still looking after the girl. He turned to smirk at Arthur. "Heard you'll be marrying Gwen next week. Took you long enough."

Arthur nodded, and he would have stopped the goofy grin that spread across his face at the mention of the upcoming wedding if he could have. But he couldn't, so Merlin's grin widened. "The people are happy enough for something to celebrate," he noted. "They needed this, what with the war we've been having against Morgana." He paused for a moment, a surprised look on his face. "Speak of the Devil," he muttered, and spun, grabbing the arm of a cloaked and hooded figure who had come up behind them "and he shall appear," Merlin finished as the hood fell back. Arthur gaped at the face of his once-sister.

Her dark hair was tangled and lank, but her face held an expression that Arthur had never thought to see upon it. Sadness.

"I'm sorry," she croaked, as Merlin hustled them all into an alley. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Merlin."

"As am I," the man said quietly. "I know I should have told you, should have helped you, but I was as scared as I know you are now, as you have always been." Arthur felt like a shadow on a wall. In the night. Invisible. But this was so freaking weird, he didn't care. There were tears on Morgana's pale face.

"How can you trust me? How can you be so near me and not be wary?" Merlin smiled at her with a shaky mouth.

"The same way you know I trust you." A sob was ripped from Morgana's throat. "Shh," Merlin said, brushing away her tears with his thumb. "You're alright. You're okay. You don't need to be afraid anymore." Morgana looked towards Arthur.

"Arthur . . . I . . ."

"What happened to you, Morgana?" His voice came out a little harsher than he had meant.

She took a shaky breath before answering him. "I was so afraid. Not so afraid of death, I think, as of betrayal."

"And you didn't think of those you would betray?"

She hung her head. "I wasn't thinking clearly," she admitted. "But . . . I think I already felt I had betrayed you by possessing magic and . . ." another sob before she calmed herself. "Morgause was very persuasive. And she was my sister, Arthur."

"Am I not your brother? You have called me that often enough in the past year, Morgana."

Her expression was lost and sad. "I didn't know. I didn't know I was Uther's daughter 'till much later. Arthur, I'm so sorry, things got so out of hand, and I let myself become a monster . . ."

It was that word, rather than anything that she had said, that had Arthur taking his sobbing sister in his arms. "Never." He said. "You are not a monster. No one is a true monster, Morgana. No one." She laughed through the sobs, and it was the laugh of the young woman he had always thought of as his sister, even when he did not know her true parentage. "Stay here," Arthur said, pulling back a pace. He nodded to Merlin, drawing the man down the alley where he could still keep an eye on Morgana's silhouette.

"Is magic telling you to trust her?" He asked.

Merlin looked at him in understanding, rolling his eyes slightly before answering. "That, and previous suspicions," Merlin said. Morgause was only killed a couple weeks ago, and that can be how long it takes for a compulsion spell to totally wear off."

"So . . ." Arthur said slowly, looking towards Morgana, "she wasn't herself these past years?"

"Not all of them, not all the way. A compulsion simply compels a person to act a certain way, or intensify certain emotions. I can still feel the remanence of the spell on her, it's just that she wasn't particularly . . . she wasn't fighting the compulsion, which could be due to any number of reasons. However, I do think we can trust her. Though . . . it might be best if most did not know she was back."

Arthur stared at Merlin. It was such an odd thing that Merlin talked like this, with authority. "So we smuggle her to the heart of Camelot?"

Merlin shrugged. "I'm not going to ask you to. I wouldn't fight you if you put her in the dungeons. But I'd like to learn what she remembers and how much she knows." He looked at Arthur, blue eyes glinting in the light from the full moon. "And no one, is a monster, Arthur."

Arthur felt his mouth drop open as Merlin walked past him to Morgana, who pulled her deep hood back up to hide her face. Arthur followed. Merlin stopped at the mouth of the alleyway, muttering something to himself, before turning to Arthur. "You'll have to take her," he said, sounding almost apologetic. Whether it was an apology to Arthur or Morgana, he wasn't sure. "The Druids all recognize me, and some of the other people know I can do magic." He made a wry expression. "I guess you'll have to skulk in the shadow a bit now, my King."

Arthur didn't know if that was a joke or not, but he took Morgana by the arm, turning to walk back into the shadows between houses, Merlin's voice coming quietly after them. "I'll meet you in your chambers, Arthur."

Morgana trembled a little in his grip, but she kept up with him. In fact,he could see that she was doing her best not to take the lead, as she had been wont to do all during their childhood. He brought her into the Citadel through a secret passageway that she must have already known, the number of times she had gotten into the castle from the dungeons or crypts. He hurried up the stairs out of the empty dungeon, into the torch-lit corridors of the main Citadel. He all but ran to his chambers; they were lucky that most of the Castle staff and servants were out celebrating.

Merlin was somehow already in the room when Arthur entered, Morgana behind him. Gwen was there as well.

"Oh, Gwen," Morgana said as the young woman stared at her with a blank expression. "Oh Gwen, I'm so sorry, so sorry, I . . ." But Gwen just held up her hand.

"I can't understand what Merlin did, and claim that I don't understand your actions." she said, moving to grip Morgana's forearms and hoist the woman to her feet from where she had fallen to her knees. "Fear can be a terrible motivator."

"How do you not hate me?"

"Hate is a strong word, Morgana," Gwen murmured. "I'm not sure I trust you, but I understand you." She turned to look at Arthur. "How will the people respond to her being back?"

"You would know better than I," he said helplessly.

"I don't have to stay here," Morgana said.

Arthur would not allow that. "No, you will stay here, where I can keep an eye on you." Morgana took her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it softly.

"But I will cause problems . . ."

"Yes. But so will my legalizing magic. We'll ride the waves out. Morgana, you're not the only magic-user that I'll have to pardon for mistakes made to save their lives. But I am not as sure as Merlin that I can trust you." Arthur looked at Merlin, unsure how the man would respond to what he was going to ah . . . suggest. "Being that Merlin trusts you, I think I'll trust him to look after you until I'm sure you are totally trustworthy."

Merlin looked surprised, but he nodded slowly. Arthur hoped that the two of them would be good for each other. Merlin was still suffering. It was in his eyes, if not in his smile; but he could deal with that later. Right now, he was happy just to look at the smile that looked like it would never leave Merlin's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the readers who have been (patiently) with me since the beginning. Your kudos and comments meant a lot to me, and made it fun to update. I'm sorry for the numerous long breaks I took. There may eventually be a sequel, I had something written, but really don't like it. I'd have to scrap it entirely and re-write it, so it may be a while if I end up writing it at all.   
> Thank you so much for reading! (Kudos and comments all appreciated)


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